Challenges
by bhen
Summary: A young 'Blade' is given the task of finding an unsual Dark Elf in the city of Suran. She wants more of a challenge, but finds this might be a bit more than what she expects.
1. Ch 1 Challenges

Challenges

"I need you to run an errand for me." The spymaster told Eiryn. She'd only just returned from the last assignment he sent her on, consisting of guiding two soldiers into the region of the Acadian Isles. Not particularly audacious let alone eventful. The young scout frowned, not enjoying the fact that Caius Cosades, Spymaster to the Blades' Guild, would once again send her some stupid task that required nothing in the way of testing her skills. She wanted a challenge this time.

"And what errand would that be?" She asked with trepidation. The very fact he said 'errand' instead of using his usual terms of 'duties' or 'orders' denoted the assignment would be similar to many other tedious errands she'd been sent to do. Most of what he asked of her was nothing more than trivial scouting duties, or at best, to run messages to and from various cities throughout the lands of Vvardenfell.

Caius scratched his chin, fingernails scritched along his unshaven jaw. Equally graying eyebrows knitted together in thought. He asked the young woman to meet him in his single room apartment used to fabricate his 'cover' of being the local _Skooma_ junkie, and so far it worked pretty well. No one in the city of Balmora even suspected Caius Cosades as being anything but some poor sod that had a '_sugar tooth'_ addiction. It was the perfect disguise to run his spywork for the Emperor of Tamriel.

He was a typical Imperial, with the stocky build and broad shoulders of his kind. For an aged man, he still carried a fair amount of muscle and the skills to match. One could even tell he'd been a fighter in his youth. Gray hair was cropped short, and balding, and the lined face looked a bit haggard.

"I need you to find someone in Suran." He said thoughtfully.

Eiryn's frown deepened. Supposedly, she was the rank Apprentice to the Blades Guild, the 'eyes and ears of the Emperor'. The elite guild consisted of agents serving the Emperor of Tamriel in any fashion that the spymaster saw fit. Since joining, Eiryn found herself running petty odd jobs or serving as scout to other Blades when the need arose, hardly the challenges she had expected to face.

She had just celebrated her twenty-second year of her young life, and had spent the past five of those years under the tutelage of the Scouts' Guild. She moved readily enough through the ranks, but found the jobs rather boring, and the training standard. When offered to join the elite Guild of the Blades, she jumped at the chance, wanting to prove herself as well as improve herself in the eyes of the aging spymaster.

Eiryn knew his offering her to join the Blades was a considerable effort on his part. In all the years she'd known the man, he had tried to protect her and care for her as best he could, being a man in his position. However, the young Breton had an adventurous spirit, taking after her father, and now joining the Guild he led.

She also knew they looked very unlike one another. No one would suspect they were related. As Caius was broad with the bulk of years from fighting, she was slim and athletic from the many miles she traversed through the providence of Vvardenfell. The young scout also had chestnut hair that nearly fell to her waist often bound in a single braid for practical purposes, with deep green eyes that were wide, not the hooded gray blue gaze her father had.

As the human races went, Imperials were warriors with the bulk and natural disposition for fighting. Bretons, however, had elven blood from many generations past that gave them a slimmer more lightweight form and pre-disposition to magic. She was mixed, so her characteristics tended to side with her mother's appearance.

Eiryn didn't have the pointed ears of the elven races. She was, however, shorter than most people with the slim figure and delicate features of high cheekbones and small chin. Eiryn also never considered herself a beauty in any sense of the word. Being short, and too athletic for most men, the young Breton also never wore gowns, or clothes that revealed too much. The practicality of her clothes marked her as the scout she was, sensible and straightforward.

Caius had made it abundantly clear to her that no one was to know of their blood kinship for fear of breaking his cover, or endangering her. She, in turn, made certain he understand she wanted no preferential treatment from him, but to offer the same challenges as any novice of the Blades. So far, she kept her end of the bargain, while he remained giving her the most ridiculously 'safe' jobs to do. Now it would seem, yet another errand to run for her father in the city of Suran. Refraining a sigh of frustration, she hid her disappointment by chewing her lower lip. "You want me to find someone in Suran?"

The older man seemed hesitant to continue and when he did, the words were guarded. "He's Dunmer, goes by the name of Saber." He told her.

Great, she thought to herself, the guy is named after a sword? Did he think himself a tough guy? Was he some mercenary or fighter? And Dunmer, also known as Dark Elves, were numerous enough in the Suran region. Too numerous. She was to find one out of hundreds? Hardly the sort of challenge she was looking for.

"Any idea as to where I look for him first?" She knew better than to refuse this task, much as she hated these 'errands'. Now the rising in rank seemed even further away from her grasp than before.

"I'm not sure." Caius said slowly. "But he's from the Imperial City. And not like other Dark Elves. He's …more than what he appears." The man looked away then back, trying to find the right words without revealing too much. "He also tends to be quite…personable."

A personable Dark Elf? Was this some sort of joke? Dunmer, were not exactly known for their humor or being light hearted, let alone 'personable'. In fact, the very word "Dunmer" meant the "Dark" or "Cursed Ones". Some interpreted the term meaning quite literally that they were dark. Skin was from ash gray to near black, and nearly all bore deep red eyes and dark hair, unless they colored their hair to red or aged with hair gone white. Others considered the term of Dunmer meaning a reference to their very nature of being 'gloomy' and 'ill favored'.

But a _personable_ Dark Elf, she thought? That seemed unheard of. Being he was from the Imperial City would mark him as a foreigner. That, at least, gave her a start to how to discern him from others. She cocked a brow at her superior, waiting for more information. He shifted uneasily in the rickety chair before continuing.

"I can't tell you much concerning him, being Imperial business." The man explained. Eiryn stiffened knowing that not every member of the Blade Guild knew what the other quests of another member might entail. Such as life was within the organization of spies. Lately Caius had been aloof and secretive of current quests, keeping the lower ranks ignorant of missions other higher-ranking members took. "You can relay to him that he must return to Balmora, by my command. He'll understand my meaning."

_By his command?_

"He's a Blade as well?" Only ones who had to follow Caius' command were members of the Blades' Guild. She was being sent to bring some rebellious member back into the fold? The Guild was fastidious with who they let into their organization, and expelling a member was almost unheard of. It also meant they 'disappeared' knowing too much of the spy work they worked for. Crossing the Blades was never done lightly. "Is he turning Rogue?"

Caius sighed as if burdened; taking a seat across the tiny room he called home. "I certainly hope not." He said, "Let's just say I think he's handling some news I gave him rather badly right now."

"Ah," Eiryn nodded, "So this wayward soul is just being defiant for now?"

"I hope that is all that it is."

So, one of the Blades was rebelling against Caius and no doubt refusing orders. It wasn't the first time, and even Eiryn had considered quitting now and then but only out of frustration. Caius was a fair man, but due to his being so closed-mouthed on things made tasks more exasperating than they already are. What made this Dunmer so important? If he was being such a crybaby, why keep him in the Blades at all? "Shall I try to bring him back by force?"

"No, and don't even try." The older man warned her. "Hasphat at the Fighters Guild informs me he's quite skilled with the blade, and various fighting techniques. I wouldn't be too surprised you might face a bit of his…anger once you speak to him."

"Is he dangerous?"

"Perhaps if provoked, but if I thought he was a danger to you, I hardly would be sending you in the first place." He smiled softly, wanting her to know he didn't want her in harm's way. This only revealed how over-protective he was. "Just give him the message, and ask for a reply, then return to Balmora."

Eiryn wasn't sure to be insulted at his implying she couldn't handle this Dunmer, or the fact he was still being protective of her! Keeping any smart remark in check, she reminded herself she was no bounty hunter. Her skills were modest with fighting for now, and had minimal skill with magecraft. Most of her talents were in alchemy, tracking, and a marksman with the bow.

"So I just find him, relay your message and come back?" She asked, disappointed in the total lack of daring this mission presented. "Sounds simple enough."

Suran was a busy agricultural and trading village located near the shore of Lake Masobi. Built in the square, box-like architecture of stone and adobe, the town sat nestled along a hillside boasting almost as many shops and tradesman as Balmora. The square buildings lined the hillside, with a curving roadway trailing up the noble estates and Imperial Temple on the higher elevations.

Various plantations surrounded the rolling landscape of the Ascadian Isles region, and they required a regular flow of new slaves to work the fields. Slaves generally consisted of the cat-like Khajiit, the reptilian Argonians, or the occasional member of the human races. Sometimes criminals were pressed into slavery as punishment, while others were simply ill fated to be caught into the slave trade for any number of reasons.

Here in the lands of the Dunmer, the slave trade was controlled through the Five Great Houses of Morrowind. Although the Empire frowned on slavery as a whole, the terms of Armistice for the land of the Dark Elves stated they could define their own laws. In the Redoran and Hlaalu districts, slavery had loosened the tight hold, but in the Televani district, slavery was still rampant.

Suran boasted a slave market as well a weapon smith, a tradehouse, a clothier, and the notorious Desele's House of Earthly Delights, the local brothel. The Earthly Delights was also one of the few places a traveler could sleep for the night, which Eiryn hoped to avoid at all costs.

The young scout stepped under the archway of one of the walled city gates, as the sun was beginning to set to the horizon. The glow of sunlight off the pale adobe walls gave everything an odd pink hue, mixed with the faintest purple in the sky. Hoisting her small pack to her shoulder, Eiryn decided to start her quest as soon as possible, hoping to find this elf before nightfall and return post haste to Balmora in short order. Maybe this time the spymaster might provide her something more challenging in the way of quests, or better yet- finally give her a new rank.

Her first stop in nearly any town was to the Tradehouse. Such shops harbored food and drink, and supplies for the traveling adventurer. A Dunmer female by the name of Ashumanu owned the local Tradehouse, and was well known for her shrewd bartering and eagerness to knock heads if anyone started a fight in her establishment. When asked about a Dark elf named Saber, she shook her head. "_Sera_, we get plenty of Dunmer in here. I don't ask names."

Great, Eiryn thought, now wishing she had a better description of this man she was to find. Sera or Muthsera were Dunmeri terms of respect, not often given to anyone not Dunmer. Eiryn had often picked up phrases of many races that could be found in Morrowind, including insults, as well as some of their traditions.

"He'd be new to Suran, from the Imperial city, an outlander." She persisted, hoping to joggle the woman's mind on something. "And I'm told he's rather personable."

Brows twitched up at this and the eyes the color of red ochre blinked in surprise. "A personable N'wah?" She scoffed, using the Dunmeri term for foreigner as an insult. "I think I'd remember such as he. You might want to try at Desele's place. That might be more to his tastes."

Eiryn grimaced upon mention of the house of ill repute, hoping to avoid it if she could. "Thank you for your time." She mumbled, handing over a coin in thanks. Money always talked. Whether the gold loosened tongues, it certainly held high esteem to all in the future, Eiryn might still find a few friends.

After questioning more individuals in the streets or shops, Eiryn realized her task was going to be a challenge after all. He wasn't as well known as Caius had led her to believe, nor was his name known. If he were avoiding the eyes of the Blades, then he'd easily use another identity. Focusing on this, Eiryn decided to simply ask for an outlander Dark Elf, and leave it at that. The tedium of such a search annoyed her to no end.

No wonder Caius decided to send her. She was a low ranking Blade, without much choice in refusing tasks placed upon her. Such responsibilities as seeking out a person in Suran who didn't want to be found, would be beneath most of other members who were seasoned warriors or skilled mages. Sighing in frustration, she soon found herself at the entrance of Desele's House of Earthly Delights, stiffening her resolve in finding this man before heading home.

If she didn't find him soon, she might have to find a room at the brothel, being the only place with beds for rent, or opt to sleep on the ground outside the city. Sleeping out of the city was known to be rife with bandits and wild beasts, and best avoided if possible. Only briefly did she consider fighting off wild Guars or Nix Hounds preferable to finding this elusive Dunmer!

Gritting her teeth, she entered through the door past the twin pink lamps. _If any guy so as much touches me_…she let the thought fade as she gazed through the dim lighted room before her. Most of the lamps were of a pink hue, and the room thick with smoke from _Skooma_ pipes or candles. Several 'gentlemen' sat amid the wooden tables to admire the three women dancing on platforms to the far wall, while a few minstrels played a seductive tune on lutes and drums.

The scout eyed the group of men, noticing several Dunmer gentlemen amid their ranks but none seemed to be the one she was looking for. They bore either noble insignia, or wore commoner shirts of farmers. A handful of other men were of pale Nordic or dark Redguard in origin, with a single wood elf sat in the far corner.

Going up to the bar, Eiryn found the owner, a young Imperial woman with deep brown eyes and full pouty mouth smiling a greeting to her. "Welcome to my House of Earthly Delights." She said warmly. "We don't get many woman who enter through the door. What can I help you with?"

"I'm looking for someone." Eiryn said, getting to the point and leaving no doubts she had a valid purpose of being here.

The woman lowered her chin, leaning forward. "Out to find a wayward husband?" She asked with a wink.

Fuming, Eiryn hoped her blush would be seen coming from the lights of the lamps around her. "I'm looking for a Dark Elf. He's an outlander. Have you seen him?"

"A Dark Elf?" Large eyes blinked in thought, a long finger tapped idly on her shin. She glanced over at the handful of Dunmer already at a table leering at the local dancers. "Hmm, let me think-"

"He is from the Imperial City, was traveling from Balmora…" Eiryn passed a gold coin to help her memory. "Calls himself Saber…?"

The woman's face lit up. "There is such a one here. You can find him upstairs, but I don't think he wants to be disturbed."

"Great…" She muttered, rubbing her face in agitation. The hour was growing late and she found the idea of having to stay over night more appalling as time passed. "Perhaps I should wait a bit?"

The woman, Desele, barked a laugh. "You'd be a waiting all night, my dear. That one is known for his stamina." Winking, she jerked her chin in the direction of the stairway. "He's in the upper room at the top of the stairs. Be sure to knock first."

Eiryn felt her cheeks grow hot at the woman's bawdiness. Lips pressed into a firm line. I'm going to slap Caius for giving me this quest! Perhaps she could simply leave a message for him, except the spymaster said nothing that she could do such a thing. Growling in irritation, she stiffened her resolve once again. So be it. This certainly wasn't the first time she had to undergo a certain level of embarrassment to fulfill a task placed upon her.

As she neared the top of the stairs, the door was shut, and the muffled sounds of a woman's laughter indicated that the room was occupied. _This is official Blade business_, She thought to herself, _Just give him the message then go back to Balmora. _

Rapping knuckles hard on the wooden door, she heard the muted voices pause before the portal opened a crack. A redheaded woman peeked out, startled to find another woman at her door tapping an impatient foot. No doubt she might perceive me as Desele did; some angry housewife out to beat her husband to an inch of his life. Eiryn certainly felt as though she wanted to beat _someone_ to an inch of his or her life! This whole situation was ludicrous.

The woman drew a flimsy robe closely around her lithe form, cocking her head to one side to appraise her with a suspicious eye.

"I have a message for Saber." Eiryn told her directly, being sure her voice was loud enough for the other occupant to hear. If this woman wanted to pretend he wasn't here, or if he wanted to pretend he was someone else, he'd at least know she was standing at his doorstep.

"I'll give him your message." The woman said, eying her with a distrustful gaze. At least she admitted to the man within was named Saber.

Muscles tense in her jaw, Eiryn gritted teeth in frustration. "I'm told to give this message directly to Saber, and to him only."

"Let her in Myra." A smooth toned voice murmured from the dimly lit room. It was slightly accented, marking him from the Imperial City. The enunciation flowed well enough, and he spoke clearly, but his accent alone marked him as 'n'wah' or foreigner in the land of Morrowind, where a general distrust of anyone not of Vvardenfell was suspect.

As Eiryn drew in breath to speak, she found her voice suddenly caught in her throat upon seeing the naked man in the bed. He was covered just enough with the sheet for modesty, and that was all.

Elven folk, or Aldmeri as they often referred to their own, are an attractive race as a whole. High Elves were tall with golden skin and pale eyes, while Wood Elves were remarkably shorter with heart shaped faces and light hair. They often had more variety in hair and eye color, while the Dark Elves were always dark-skinned with blood red to deep wine colored eyes and dark glossy hair. Dark Elves also marked themselves with tattoos or scarring to denote rank and clan, or membership to one of the Great Houses. Many would dye their hair, or have styles from braids, to ponytails, to all manner of beadwork braided into the lengths. Some might shave their heads, but for every Dark Elf Eiryn had met, they always had some unique tattoo or some form of body modification. This one bore no markings whatsoever.

He sat with back against the wall of the tiny room, sheets barely covering what needed to be covered. His torso and long legs were exposed, showing excessive amounts of taut muscle. Dunmer varied in shading from light gray to almost black, but his was a pleasant in-between, similar to stormy blue-gray. His manner was relaxed, with an elbow resting on a folded knee. The bed had been well used by the look of disheveled sheets, and several bottles of varied wines scattered the floor of his little party.

Straight black hair fell past his shoulders, unbound, unbraided, and unadorned. The only ornamentation he wore was a single earring in his right ear with its graceful tip pointed as any elven kind. Eyes the shade of deep wine stared back at her, the pupils glowing red-orange in the dim light, appraised her directly with a serious expression of 'who is this?' look. An arched brow rose up in question.

He held a certain confidence that was quite alluring, but what was more he bore the elegant features of a noble. High cheekbones, a full mouth, and beardless chin only furthered added to an almost regal appearance. He was, in short, remarkably handsome. The Dunmer waited expectantly. "Your message?"

Swallowing hard, Eiryn hoped he didn't notice her blush. "In private." She told him, not wishing to share her message with the prostitute standing there.

A smile played on his lips, almost suggestively. Did he think she meant to seduce him or something? "Myra…" He murmured softly to the woman. "Would you be so kind as to excuse us?"

Myra was less than happy to being sent away from her client but could hardly argue. She cast a dark glare to the young scout before leaning possessively to the man and planting a lingering kiss on his mouth. Eiryn remained stoic, trying very hard to be patient and knew the woman was trying to show her ownership of the man in question. The keen look and smirk on the woman's mouth when she drew away attested to that. She left shutting the door behind her.

"Now we are alone…" The man named Saber spoke with suggestion in his tone. "What is your message?"

"Caius Cosades sent me-" She began, and found the elf already growing stiff in his posture, his pleasant expression transforming into one of irritation. She continued, "He sent me here to find you-"

"Oh don't tell me," He said, rolling his eyes dramatically, splaying hands in front of him. "He wants me to return to Balmora immediately?"

"Well that is the gist of the message…" Eiryn frowned, not understanding what the problem was. If he didn't want to be part of the Blades, then why doesn't he just renounce his rank and be done with it? "He added that you are return by his command-"

The Dark Elf glared at her, but she knew almost immediately the Dunmer's anger was not directed at her as much as the spymaster who of course wasn't here to face his wrath. "By _his_ command?" The tone turned mocking. "You can tell Cosades that I've enough of his orders. If he wishes to send me back to Cyrodil, he's welcome to come and try."

Eiryn was struck speechless. Did he just challenge the Spymaster of the Blades? The man snorted in disgust, gathering sheets around his waist to get to his feet. Eiryn stepped back, realizing just how tall the man was now that he loomed above her. The top of her head barely met his chin, and with his sudden temper, he seemed formidable indeed. "And you can tell Cosades…I have no intention of being the Emperor's pawn in this matter. They will have to find some other fool to fill that part. I'm done with it."

"The Emperor?" Eiryn blinked incredulously, not understanding what was going on. If he was to follow orders of the Emperor himself, then things were more serious than she thought.

His gaze sharpened on her, his chin tilted somewhat to consider her for the first time. After a moment he gave a soft derisive snort. "You don't know anything about this do you?"

"Know what?"

His eyes rolled dramatically again. "Caius and all his damned secrets-." He muttered, gathering up his clothes. Obviously this message had killed whatever mood he was in, or further thoughts to stay at the Earthly Delights. Eiryn hoped he might consider returning to Balmora as requested, but his manner belied such intentions. Most likely he simply wanted to find another hiding place away from the guild's intrigues.

A sarcastic laugh was met with a shake of his head. "No small wonder there, is it? I wasn't told a damned thing either until just the other day."

"What are you talking about?" Eiryn asked, suddenly very curious indeed of what possible quest this man was set for. When he dropped the sheet, she quickly looked away before seeing too much exposed flesh as he dressed. He seemed to not even care as he yanked trousers on.

"If I knew what Caius wanted of me…and that damned Emperor of his, then I would've gladly remained in prison-" He muttered, continuing to dress and obvious to what she was hearing.

"Prison?"

"That's what I was…a thief…" He continued. The elf nudged her out of his way, to find his boots near the door. The room was incredibly small in comparison to most inns. In here, there was very little standing room. "Nobody significant. Always kept to my own damned business. Never hurt anyone did I? Only killed those who might try to kill me first and even then avoided it when I can. Do I look as though I'm someone of importance?"

Now he looked at her, splaying out arms so she could see him. She still had a strong sense he was only ranting; his discourse was not directed at her specifically. The Dunmer didn't even wait for her reply. "Do I even look like a hero?" Saber snorted to himself to reply to his own question. "No…I'm not. Thieves are not heroes."

He pulled on a dark shirt of silk, tucking the hem in his trousers. He then pulled on a unique harness sheath that housed a curved blade, a short scimitar. Not exactly a weapon a thief would choose, but if he was a Blade, he might've been trained in the weapon to best handle the quests given to him. The harness set the scabbard on his back, bearing several short daggers across his chest, and a belt that carried various small pouches. "Thieves as a whole do not care for others," He continued his litany. "And we most certainly do not care about foreign lands and their troubles now do we? Where is the gold in that?"

Eiryn was stunned by his manner, "What in Azura's name did Caius tell you?"

He barked a derisive laugh, brushing hair out of his eyes. "Azura indeed…" He muttered, "She had this planned all along, I bet-"

"Azura?" Goddess of the Night Sky? One of the Temple's Nine Divines?

The Dark Elf's gaze sharpened, the red glare now staring back at her. Eiryn thought she also found a profound sense of fear in his gaze. "Yes Azura!" His voice rose in pitch, "Did I ask for any of this? Does Caius truly believe I'm up for this insanity?"

"What are you talking about?" Eiryn asked, fighting the urge to shake the answer out of him if need be. Perhaps he was mad, infected with soul sickness? Some of the temple priests had warned her of those who were plagued with odd dreams, and often went mad from them. Some whispered of the evil exuding from Red Mountain caused such dreams. "What is it Caius wants you to do?"

He inhaled slowly, calming immediately as if remembering where he was. Hands clenched in frustration. "Not just Caius…the Emperor… Vivec..." He sighed, sitting back on the edge of the bed to cradle his face in his hands.

"What?" Eiryn felt as though he might've just as well hit her solid in her chest. Did she just hear him correctly? Vivec was one of the Tribunal, one of the 'living gods' of Morrowind who had been mortal once, but claimed godhood through magical means. His city was one of the largest settlements in Vvardenfell, living in a palace within the opulent city, speaking through the High Fane to his followers.

Many of the faithful had turned to Vivec in the hopes of being freed of the terrible curse of ash storms from Red Mountain. An onslaught of blight diseases also plagued the land, and was said to be in the very ash storms themselves. A swell of infected creatures, the undead, and the constant threat of the Sixth House cult uprisings all over Vvardenfell further created havoc over the land. Vivec had yet to answer the prayers

"Have you ever heard of the Nerevarine Prophecies?" he asked, suddenly appearing rather exhausted with the weight of this task set upon him. Eiryn had only heard bits and pieces of what 'dissident priests' of the Tribunal compiled, and it had something to do with an ancient Dunmer hero reborn to unite all of the Morrowind.

"Something about the Incarnate reborn, isn't it?" She said with caution. The Temple didn't appreciate talk about such matters, considering the prophecies to be profane and going against the Tribunal.

The Dark Elf nodded, looking grim. "Seems they need someone to fulfill those prophecies for them." His direct stare meant that someone was to be none other than him.

Eiryn was stunned, having to sit down in the single chair in the room to let this information sink in. Somehow she suspected he probably shouldn't be telling her any of this. Such orders from the Emperor would no doubt be secretive in their nature, and as a Blade she hadn't heard even a whisper of such a quest as this before now. Would Caius want her to know about this?

Stunned, she hoped he was playing a joke but his expression was too earnest. How could they? He was a thief. Why did they pick him for such an important task? Did any of them seriously belief the prophecies to be true?

"How do they know?" She began.

"I don't think they do." He replied knowing her question. "I fulfill the 'born on a certain day to uncertain parents' part," He shook his head slowly, having to brush back his hair as it often fell over his face. "I think they simply want me to _appear_ as the Incarnate reborn."

Eiryn stared, trying to comprehend as to how does one grasp such an overwhelming duty. There had been others claiming to be the Incarnate, all disappeared in short order. Some spoke of their being killed by assassins, others considered they simply failed to achieve many of the goals set upon them and died in that attempt one way or another. What it meant was that the Incarnate was to unite the Ashlander tribes of the Dunmer, as well as the Great Houses. That in and of itself was daunting challenge. Now they expected a thief to do what others could not?

Nonetheless, the promise of ending the horrible Blight and cursed lands of Red Mountain seemed a just cause- that is, if one was a hero, which this elf professed not to be. Why then did Caius wish him to return? Why not choose someone with more nobility and forthrightness to undergo this quest, someone of the Imperial Shrine perhaps, or of the Great Houses of Morrowind?

"I see your point." Eiryn conceded. He was trapped between the choice of returning to prison, or dying in the attempt to fulfill a prophecy in a land not of his birth. "If you're not the Incarnate reborn, then don't do it."

He made a disgusted noise, "Nice choices I have." The tone was sarcastic. "Die or go back to the Imperial Prison?"

"You just said yourself you're no hero and that you don't think you're the Neveravine." Eiryn said plainly. "You also said you'd gladly remain in prison-"

Saber seemed to hesitate then, his eyes hiding something else he hadn't shared with her. Palms rubbed nervously against his thighs as muscles worked from jaws being clenched. "Do you believe in Destiny?"

Eiryn always felt she had freedom of choice, but that never seemed the right answer, being that luck had so much to do with how one fought or how coincidences led up to important events in one life. "I never really thought about it." Eiryn admitted.

"Neither did I up until now." Saber said, now facing the ultimate meaning of the word Fate. "I've had dreams lately… odd dreams. One I thought Azura herself spoke to me." His red eyes flickered away, looking out into nothing. His expression was troubled. "And I suppose I must consider…what if?"

_What if he was? _But how could he be? What tribe or House would accept a foreigner, _an N'wah_, among them let alone Neveravine reborn? _He's more than what he appears…._ Caius'words echoed back to her. Did he know something more than Saber might not even know himself? And dreams…soul sickness… the possibilities made her mind reel.

"_Could_ you be the Neveravine?" It seemed a stupid and ridiculous question, but Eiryn felt compelled to ask. _If he was…_

The Dunmer stared back at her with an odd mix of uncertainty and denial. "What do you think?" His tone indicated he didn't, but his doubts were obvious.

"Well why then would they have you do this quest?" She persisted. As a Blade he'd be offered training in any number of new skills to help fulfill tasks set for him to do, from fighting to magecraft if he needed such knowledge. "Even if they wanted you to only _appear_ as the Incarnate, something about you must give them the idea that you accomplish this."

The Blades were not known to sacrifice their members. Even impossible jobs the Blade would be given all the training and skills he'd need to get done the job done, from magecraft, to spells, to whatever weapons one needed. Duties also included a plan. Blades followed orders, so there was no doubt Caius had something mapped out for the young Dunmer to follow.

The Dunmer pressed lips into a grim line, considering what she said. "I'm a thief. I'm expendable.-"

"A good thief?" She asked him.

He looked back at her, trying to understand what she was asking him. His red eyes blinked slowly in consideration. "Yes a good thief-" Saber paused, as thoughts began to rouse. "A very good thief."

"And I assume you can use that sword on your back-" She continued.

He nodded, "Fairly well…" She caught his tone of false modesty.

"And you must have already succeeded in several quests given to you?"

Another nod, this time slower. "Not to the extent of fulfilling a prophecy-"

"Caius says you're more than what you appear to be. Perhaps you're not giving yourself enough credit?"

The Dunmer gave a derisive snort, the full lips twitching almost as if holding back a smile. "I'd be the first to tell you I'm good at what I do, but saving people and fulfilling prophecies isn't one of them."

An idea came to her. Something that just occurred to why he'd come to Suran to 'hide', and avoid facing Caius. "So is this why you're in Suran, whoring yourself through a House of ill repute?" Eiryn asked, finding his manner to which to prove to all he couldn't possibly be 'the one' rather amusing. "Trying to show everyone that you're nothing but a petty thief and a rogue?"

The corners of his mouth pulled into a lopsided grin. "A rogue? Perhaps. But there's nothing petty about me." He said, with amusement on his tone. "Just ask Myra, or any of the ladies here."

It forced a laugh out of Eiryn, releasing the tension in the room. "Either case, certainly not someone worthy of fulfilling a prophecy?"

"That's exactly my thinking." He replied, a smirk playing on his mouth. "I mean, how could the one meant to save all of Morrowind be drinking and womanizing his way through Suran? So I can't possibly be the one now can I?"

"Being that I have no experience with Prophecies, I cannot answer that." She snickered, "I'd never assume what an Incarnate is or what is expected of them. I suppose that is for you to say."

He snorted softly, looking away. "Then I say the Incarnate has nothing more to do with Morrowind, and retires in the lap of luxury."

Eiryn found herself truly feeling sorry for the situation the poor man was placed in. And here she had hoped for a challenge! What he must be facing now! She sighed softly, slapping palms over her thighs to stand up. "I will be certain to share that with Caius then, and give him your message."

"What would you do?" Saber asked her suddenly.

Caught off guard by his query, she paused mid-step. "Me?" Thoughts flittered over the challenges, and Eiryn considered if she'd be up for the test, or if anyone could. Dangerous, most likely suicidal, yet just think of the gains! Morrowind free of Blight and the cursed ash storms! The end of the Sixth House! "If it were me, I'd probably try to find a way to do what I could."

She caught his slight wince at her answer, and the tightening of his mouth. Most likely he'd hoped she would refuse to take on the mantle of Incarnate, thereby justifying his refusing to do so as well. Her thoughts drifted to where she could sleep that night, being she'd rather not sleep on the ground, or in a brothel. The hour had grown late, and traveling the roads at night was asking for trouble.

"What did you say your name was?" Saber asked her.

Snapping out of her considerations, she gave him a smile. "Eiryn Acques, Apprentice to the Blades, and Ranger Scout in the Woodland Guild."

"A scout?" He seemed more impressed with that title than the one of the Blades, and well he should. She seemed to be moving right along the ranks in the Woodland Guild of Balmora, yet agonizingly slow in the Blades. "And Caius sends you as a messenger?"

She shrugged, knowing well enough how it looked. "Its not unusual that scouts run as messenger or even delivery for Guilds in our travels. I must admit, I had hoped for something more of a challenge this time. That's why I joined the Blades in the first place."

"Challenge?" Saber echoed, uncertain to what she meant.

Now blushing, she hoped he didn't take it the wrong way. "To give you a message. Hardly a challenge was it?"

His grin widened and the area around his eyes creased in amusement. "Did you want to fight off vicious cliff racers and Blight infected Nix Hounds instead?"

"Preferably to finding a naked man in a brothel? Oh most certainly yes!" She laughed. "I know how to handle Nix Hounds."

"And you couldn't handle an unarmed naked man?" He teased, holding back a laugh. "It would seem you were challenged after all. You handled yourself just fine."

Eiryn felt her face grow hot once again at his remark. It was true. Perhaps not all challenges had to be dealt with a sword.

He stood up; being sure his sword sheath was snug along his chest. "Perhaps, Eiryn Acques, Apprentice to the Blades, and Ranger Scout in the Woodland Guild, you would allow me to buy you drink?"

She eyed the good-looking Dark Elf with an appraising eye, wondering where his intentions lay. Was he flirting with her? "On one condition." She told him as an idea came to her.

His elegant brows rose up in surprise. "And what is that?"

"You promise me that you'll at least consider going back to Balmora."

Taken aback, he couldn't hide his surprise. "Why should I?"

She replied with a hearty smile, "Because I sense that you might very well be up for any task set upon you if you set your mind to- Neveravine or not."

Saber stood back to appraise her, to consider her thoughts on the matter. "Perhaps I shall return to Balmora, if the dear lady allows me to assist in her training?"

Eiryn stiffened, curious to what training he meant. Many of the Blades were trainers in skills they excelled at. He offered his arm as a gentleman would. "To handle unarmed naked men in brothels of course."

Perhaps she'd stay the night after all.


	2. Ch 2 Overnight

Eiryn soon found herself sitting across one the tables in the large public room of Desele's Earthly Delights. She listened to Saber tell an amusing story of one of his larcenous adventures that turned out rather badly, leaving him facing a handful of guards without any weapons, and losing the very item he had been set to steal. Truly the Dunmer could rival a bard by his flourished tale! Animated, the Dark Elf certainly embellished the ensuing fight but was modest enough to admit he lost soon enough and faced several months in the Imperial prison.

Sighing sadly, he toasted his cup to Fate. "That being said, I can honestly say that the necklace was hardly the price for my freedom." He filled his cup once again. "But I suppose the adventure might be considered worth it."

Eiryn shook her head in disbelief. "How long were you in prison?"

"Six months." He replied quickly. By his tone, Eiryn felt he could give her details to the very hour or minute of time spent behind bars. Clearly he hated confinement, valued his freedom. "Then I'm suddenly pardoned by the Emperor himself, and sent here to the lands of Morrowind."

"To fulfill some ancient prophecy…" Eiryn murmured, not wishing to speak too loudly of his quest to unintended ears. "How much of the tale do you know of?"

"Not much." The Dunmer admitted, folding an arm against his chest and leaned back in his chair. "I understand the Neveravine is an ancient Dunmer hero reborn to save the lands of Morrowind. Something about the Sixth House cult having to do with the outbreak of Blight disease, and how someone named Dagoth Ur is at the root of it."

_The Sixth House_…the very words rang fear into the hearts of any who knew their history. There were six major Houses in the lands of Morrowind, but the Sixth House, also known as House Dagoth, had betrayed Morrowind and was exterminated. Now the cult of the Sixth House was rumored to have 'wakened'. Tales whispered of the undead, with soulless creatures come to attack settlements, and the priests of this cult, readying to overcome Vvardenfell.

"Dagoth Ur…Lord of House Dagoth-" Eiryn nearly shuddered. She'd heard the stories enough to grow uneasy at the turn of conversation. "They say he lives under Red mountain, and he's responsible for causing the ash storms and blight. His followers are mad creatures, ghouls and zombies, and the corpus beasts."

Saber made a face. "Corpus…everything I heard of the disease is horrible." He said in disgust. "The ash storms from Red Mountain cause this?"

Eiryn shook her head. "The ash storms cause the Blight diseases. Corpus infects from corpus beasts such as the lame corpus or corpus stalker."

The Dunmer made a sound similar to a snort or cough, though his handsome face twisted into one of disgust. "I've seen a few corpus beasts. Horrid creatures. Misshapen and always hungry for flesh, even of their own."

Eiryn considered what he said. She was lucky enough to never having met one, and only could go by the stories she'd heard from adventurers in the region. They were malformed beasts that were once men who crawled out from under Red Mountain and said to always carry a taste for flesh, even going so far as cutting off their own limbs to feed. A wave of sickness passed over her. "You're lucky you haven't caught corpus. The creatures can spread it."

"I did catch blight disease once." Saber added, already knowing the perils and must have already faced. "I've caught Ash-woe before. Thankfully I had some potions on hand just for that reason." He shuddered. "Terrible illness. Makes you hurt all over, gives you all manner of delusions."

Wanting to talk of something more light-hearted, Eiryn had him fill her cup once more of the sweet liquor known as Sujamma. It was Dunmer whiskey, with a sweet taste and hard kick but left one feeling very warm and relaxed. "And what do you think of our fair land of Morrowind?"

"You mean besides the ash storms, the Blight, and the threat of the Sixth House?" He laughed. "Morrowind seems rife with danger, and the racism is difficult to stomach, and honestly, I'll never get used to some aspects of this land."

"Such as?"

"Stilt striders." He spat, adding a dramatic shudder. "Big ugly bugs as the main source of transportation? Ugh."

The young scout barked a laugh, considering he just admitted to facing and surviving corpus beasts. Stilt striders were passive insect-like creatures used all over Vvardenfell as the main mode of transport. They were nearly three stories tall, being mostly all legs, and moved with a gentle sway making traversing safe. It was preferable to walking where one might face any number of wild beast or criminals on the open road.

"Would you rather walk everywhere?"

He shrugged, brushing back hair that fell over his eyes. Most of the length was tucked behind his pointed ears. "I generally walk, teleport, or fly." His fingers pulled out an amulet around his neck, showing a silver disk with inlaid gems and glyphs worked into the metal. "One of the mages lent this to me."

Eiryn wasn't really looking at the piece of jewelry, but noticed how long his fingers were, the nails slightly longer than most men would have it, and unique rings on each hand. So he practiced a fair amount of magery as well? "Teleports you or levitation?"

Teeth flashed in his crooked grin. "This only teleports me back to Balmora, and it's only on loan from the guild there." He pushed it back under the collar of his shirt. "I'm already training to make various potions for what lies ahead. You never know when healing or water walking might come in handy."

To this Eiryn was very familiar with. Being a scout required a good bit of travel, and she had to master Alchemy very early in her career in order to survive. Levitation and water walking potions were essential in the Televani district, where wizards built their mushroom towers without stairs on islands with no docks. One had to fly in order to reach them.

"Are you a member of the guild?" Eiryn asked, suddenly curious.

"Which one?"

She smirked as his feigned ignorance. "The mage's guild."

He looked away. "Let us say, that I am a member of a profitable guild and leave it as that." Saber took another sip of his drink. His secretiveness only proved to have her want to know more about him.

Somehow he didn't fit to follow the rules that the fighter's, mage's, or any of the Great Houses' would demand of him. "But you're being trained in the mage's guild?"

"As a favor to Caius I would think." Saber nodded. "Not to be a mage though."

That made sense. Generally only faction members received training, but Caius pulled strings all the time, even for Eiryn to get training in any number of the guilds in Balmora.

"And Hasphat at the Fighter's Guild?" She asked, remembering Caius mention this elf's skill with the blade. "He's training you as well?"

The Dunmer tilted his head realizing she knew more about him than he thought. "I'm already fairly trained. Hasphat is more of a sparring partner. But he's a Blade is he not?"

Shaking her head, Eiryn corrected him. "No, he is more than happy to provide training to just about anyone with coin, regardless if you're a member of his fighter's guild or not. I think the gold supports his interest in archeology."

"Dweemer ruins." Saber snorted in disgust. "Yes, I'm well aware of that interest the man has. He sends me on some foolish errand to find a Dweemer puzzle box in the Arkngthand ruins near Fort Moonmoth. The man fails to let me know that smugglers had taken up base there."

"And this was cause for concern? From what I hear, you're rather good with the sword." Eiryn commented, remembering what Caius had warned her of trying to force him in returning to Balmora. The man's gaze sharpened, trying to gauge what her meaning was. It took her a moment that her comment might be construed as something else entirely.

Almost as if reading her thoughts, his gaze pointedly dropped down to his lap and back to her, with a lewd grin on his face. "Well that is for Myra to say, or Desele, or any of the dancers over yonder-"

"I meant the blade in the sheath, you dolt." Eiryn snickered, "And Desele has already mentioned to me your _stamina_."

Saber shrugged with feigned modesty. "Well yes, I am pretty good my sword." He took another sip of his drink to hide the coy smirk on his lips. Eiryn held back the urge to slap him playfully, enjoying his easygoing manner too much for her own good.

"I avoid a fight when I can however," Saber continued on a more serious note. "I prefer using stealth and my charming good nature instead."

"Very disarming to be sure." Eiryn agreed, "Though how effective are your 'charms' against blight infected kagouti?"

"Oh those I use harsh language." He said with a bland expression.

Eiryn laughed at this, stifling her giggle with her hand. Kagouti were almost all teeth and tusks, with huge bipedal feet bearing claws they preferred to stomp you into the ground so much as look at you. "I'll bear that in mind next time I'm cornered by one the beasts."

His red eyes glowed like embers in the dim candle glow of the room. "And what of your training?" he countered, motioning to Desele across the smoke filled room for another bottle. "All scouting or has Hasphat provided you lessons with the sword at your hip?"

The young woman began to feel the effects of the Sujamma, feeling a pleasant warmth and general sense of ease. "I know the sword well enough I suppose, but my skill is with the bow."

"Marksman?"

She nodded, "I often win at the festivals held in Pelagiad in the Last Seed month." Pausing, Eiryn remembered seeing his long bow resting near the bed upstairs. She preferred a shorter bow to the long, strength-bearing models. "And you?"

"Fair enough." He grinned in false modesty.

The more his answers to her questions were ambiguous, the more she wanted to know more about him.

"Is Saber your real name?" The question popped out of her mouth in the hopes of learning more about this elusive man.

Arched brows rose up in surprise. "I'd certainly question a woman who'd name her child after a weapon."

"So it's a nickname then."

"One of many." He nodded.

"So what's your real name?"

"Ah there is a real mystery." Saber remained sly. "I don't have a given name. Not one that was given by my mother anyway."

Eiryn tilted her head curiously. "You have no name?"

"Oh I have a name…several in fact, just none are ones that were given to me by my mother- whoever she was." He took a long pull from his tankard, suddenly self-conscious at the woman's hard stare. Setting the cup down, he explained. "I was presumably orphaned."

_On a certain day to uncertain parents…_ Even Eiryn had heard the prophecy of the Incarnate and knew only bits and pieces of the story. Supposedly, the Incarnate would have questionable parentage. So perhaps Saber fulfilled some of the stories.

"So what name do you prefer to go by?" Eiryn asked. Her curiosity in his real identity stumped her to no end.

Saber folded arms to lean on the table, tilting his chin low as if it were some marvelous secret. "One name is as good as any other." He whispered, winking at her with a boyish grin.

"Then I will just call you _S'wit_." Eiryn smiled graciously, enjoying the grimace he returned. The term was a Dunmeri insult, meaning something akin to fool, or shithead.

He forced a scowl beyond the obvious humor that had returned. "I understand what you are asking me. The first name I remember was Feryl, so if you wish to go by that, suit yourself."

"Feryl…" She said the name and it seemed to suit him. "What does it mean?"

The mouth pulled into a crooked smile again. "Its Old Common meaning 'wild or 'fierce', often referring to a stray dog."

It was Eiryn's turn to be surprised. A stray dog? It sounded more of an insult than nickname. "Who would name you that?"

The smile faded. His red gaze shifted away as he grew suddenly very uncomfortable with the topic. "It's a nickname, like Saber." He obviously brushed her question aside, pointedly not answering. "Good as any other."

Tapping fingernails along the edge of her cup, Eiryn considered she perhaps had too much to drink. She'd missed the last ride out of Suran, and would need to consider where to sleep that night. Glancing at Feryl…or Saber…or whoever he was, the young scout considered his previous offer.

"You have the room here for the night?" She asked him, having to lean across the table to raise her voice in order to be heard above the rowdy men ogling the dancing girls.

"Yes, I paid for the entire night." His red eyes glowed in the dim room, and a smile spread on his mouth. "What did you have in mind?"

The young scout grinned, feeling frisky. "You promised me lessons." She reminded him, already warming to the idea of his body against hers. In the back of her mind, she knew perhaps it was the Sujamma doing the talking now, but he was so cocky, his manner so damned confident, she wondered if his boasting matched his skill.

"So I did-" He moved to stand up, but two large men soon sheltered over their small table in the corner. One was a burly Nord, with broad shoulders and the bluest eyes. His long blond hair was worn in traditional Nord fashion with two single braids framing his equally broad face. The other man was a smaller Redguard, with a long scar from his temple to his cheek. His brown skin bore several impressive scars from battles. An eye was white from damage, but he seemed well enough to handle himself with only one eye. The sharp dagger on his belt, with the Nord's small hand axe also ready at his side indicated trouble.

Saber's expression turned suddenly very dark at the humans. "Might I help you gentlemen? Perhaps…out the door?"

The threat was not unnoticed as the men glared back at him, and Eiryn briefly wondered why he was so suddenly taking the offense with these men. Did he know them? They looked down at her, exchanging glances.

"We were admiring the woman you have." The Nord commented, clearly showing his interest in her. "A Breton is she not?"

Saber was less than pleased. "She is with me-" He started to say.

The Redguard stepped forward, "I think it is for the lady to say." He smiled, certain to show his heavy purse at his belt. Did he think he could win her with coin or his so-called charms? "Perhaps the lady might want a man- or two men- of considerable more size?"

Eiryn considered the remark on size might not have much to do with their measure. But both men were indeed taller and having more bulk than the lithe Dark Elf, having even considerable larger weapons at their belts than Saber's elegant scimitar.

Saber remained tense. He didn't seem as though he'd be offended if she did pick one or both of the men, but frankly they paled in comparison to him. Clearly of the three, Saber was the best looking and from what little she knew of him, the most likeable of the lot.

For a brief moment, Eiryn found herself very curious indeed to what would happen if the men fought. Of the three, one might consider the Nord to be victor having the mass and strength, but the Redguard or Elf might show stealth, or speed, especially Saber to which the Dunmer's swiftness was renown.

Shoving thoughts away, she reminded herself that she was no tavern wench, or even a 'lady' as the men continually complimented her with. She was a Blade Apprentice! The thought sobered her a bit, sharpening her mind enough to realize her situation.

"I'm afraid I need to retire, Gentlemen." She said with an air of nobility, wanting to find some way of exiting this trouble, but still unsure to where she'd sleep that night. Perhaps she should try to ask one of the city guards out on the streets for suggestions to where to stay. These men were hardly the companions she needed. Most likely she shouldn't be even playing with thoughts about the Dunmer for that matter, being what he was. Thief, rogue, a fellow Blade and Incarnate. Caius might not be very happy should happen between them. "So if you'll excuse me-"

The Nord blocked her way, refusing to move. The thin-lipped mouth curled back in a coarse grin. "Perhaps you'd need some help to a room upstairs?" He offered, leering by raking her small frame with his eyes.

Perhaps the Nord had too much to drink, or perhaps men as a whole didn't care much for anything but a warm body? By the gods, there were three very pretty, very _available_ women at their leisure on the dance floor! Why bother with her?

"I think I can handle leaving on my own." She said, side stepping the large man.

She wasn't certain to what the man hoped to gain by his actions, but his hand moved to touch her arm, when Saber exploded into action. He must have been waiting for the man to do something wrong. Easily snatching the offending hand, he twisted the man's wrist behind his back subsequently slamming the heavy Nord face first into the table. The wooden frame nearly buckled under the force, and the entire pub fell silent from the noise.

Saber leaned forward to snarl in his ear. "Touch her again, and I break more than your hand." The Nord spat blood from the mouth, where his face connected to the wood.

From the corner of her eye, she saw the Redguard move forward, but the Elf dodged the dagger meant to slip into his ribs, at the same time moving his free elbow up and back to the man's nose. The thud of elbow connect to soft tissue was soon followed by a garbled cry of pain. He managed this all without losing his grip on the Nord's broken wrist.

By now Desele approached, taking matters in her own hands. "I believe you two gentlemen have homes to go to." She glared at the Redguard, her hands holding a heavy club used just for troublemakers such as they. "Or shall I call the city guards?"

Saber released the Nord, stepping back to move his hand on the hilt of a dagger lest the man decide to retaliate. All the blond man could do is cast a baleful glare to the Dunmer shared with his Redguard friend as they made their exit.

Giving Desele a short bow, Saber apologized for the disturbance.

The woman laughed off his concern. "At least you didn't break anything this time." She said, patting his arm. "I'd watch my back with those men though. Hurolf and Rim can be vicious as rabid netch."

"I will bear that in mind." Saber told her, turning his attention to Eiryn who stood a bit unsteady on her feet.

"'Break anything this time'?" Eiryn echoed, curious to what Desele meant by that.

He looked sheepish. "A few tables…a bottle over someone's head. Nothing serious."

She stifled laughter. "I thought you said you weren't a hero."

The dark elf seemed oddly self-conscious now. Shrugging, he drank the last of his own drink. He spoke into his cup. "No, just hoping to get lucky tonight."

Eiryn bubbled with laughter, enjoying his sense of humor. It was so primal her reaction to seeing how easily he handled the men. She wanted him now more than ever. To hell with what Caius would think!

"Lead on then, Saber of Cyrodil, hero and upholder of my honor." She said, moving to press up against his lean frame. Saber smiled, still self-conscious, as he kept her upright with a stiff arm around her waist.

"I'm afraid you had a bit much to drink." He told her, helping her take the stairs up, after she stumbled on the first step.

"That I did." Eiryn readily agreed feeling somewhat fuddled. "I'm not used to Dunmer whiskey." She nearly stumbled again as they reached the door of his room, where he practically had to carry her to the bed. He dropped his sheath and belt by the door, too hampered now with the young scout to handle a weapon.

Wrapping arms around his neck, she admired his fine features, trailing a hand along his smooth face as he set her near the bed. She kept herself up by keeping an arm around his waist.

He had the most amazing eyes, having an unusual but wonderful hue of red, of deep burgundy, and thick lashes made eyes appear dark. Upon closer inspection, Eiryn appreciated the fine lines of his jaw, the smooth texture of his skin- "By the gods, you are beautiful…" She sighed out loud.

A sudden smirk tugged at his mouth as he was amused by her flattery. He shifted his gaze, pulling her off with gentle but firm hands "I think you best sleep this off."

"What?" Through her bleary Sujamma muddled mind, she realized he was refusing her.

The dark elf shook his head. "I can't take advantage of you in this condition-"

"Oh come on, why start being a gentleman now?" She re-engaged herself to slide seductively against him, tugging his shirt up so that hands to slip inside along his tight waist and enjoy the warm skin beneath. "You're so much better at being a scoundrel."

Jerking away as if ticklish, he laughed softly at her continued attempts at pulling him into bed. "You'll hate yourself in the morning, or worse- you'll hate me." He told her.

Eiryn sighed softly, "I'll be too hung over to care." Reassuring him by moving to her knees to kneel on the bed, now able to nuzzle lips against his throat. "You promised me-" Daring now, she trailed her tongue along the elegant column of his throat, enjoying the sharp intake of breath he made when she did. "To give me lessons."

"That was when you were sober." He murmured, only half-heartedly fending her off now. "And I'm beginning to wonder if you even _need_ lessons-" Just as he pulled one arm off, the other would snake back around his waist. She hoped persistence might win out.

"In handling a naked man in a brothel?" Eiryn took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of him, of the leather and incense on his skin. "Let's find out, shall we?" With a harder tug, she pulled the front his shirt with a sharp yank, throwing him off balance, landing him almost on top of her. Saber laughed, trying to get up only to find her legs and arms wrap around his waist and neck, preventing him from anything but to remain where he was.

"Eiryn…" He said, trying to be somber, but the eyes squinted in the attempt. "I'm serious-"

She pulled him close, teasing his mouth with her lips. "I can tell you want this as much as I do." His breath caught, and another attempt to pull back. She laughed lightly, choosing to snuggle against his neck once more. "Are you trying to play hard to get?"

Saber no longer pulled away. "Is it working?"

"Marvelously so." She conceded, feeling his hand brush her cheek. The elf leaned against the affection with a soft smile. With the softest touch, he brushed lips against hers. Enticingly, the full lips nibbled on hers before finally rewarding her with a deeper more passionate kiss.

A low moan escaped her throat, hands trailing up his back to help remove his shirt, enjoying the delightful feel of toned flesh against her palms. It had been so long since she'd slept with anyone, focusing her time and efforts with her work. Only on a few occasions did she enjoy a tumble with someone in her travels, but most were regrettable. One was a young Imperial farmer who'd let her stay the night in his hut during a storm; the other was Breton adventurer she'd been guiding into the Grazelands region. Both were hardly memorable.

She'd never been with an elf before. Dark Elves were the most unknown of what manner of lovers they made, being they usually kept to their own. They held a usual distain for all the other races, including other elven kind, seeing their race as the true humans of the world, and everyone else were base animals. This one however wasn't like other Dark Elves in any sense of the word- well he had the same stormy gray flesh tone, the glossy black hair, the elven features of graceful brows and chin. Saber seemed light-hearted, and now all too eager once the doors of passion were opened.

He was well muscled for an elf, yet not overly so, all bearing on a graceful frame without the bulk. Elven body frames were remarkably light, providing them speed and agility. Unlike Breton males who tended to have body hair, elves were generally hairless, some supposedly even shaving what hair might remain. Either reason, Saber's skin was remarkably smooth.

She ran hands along his back, tugging at the line of his trousers.

"Are you certain?" The Dunmer murmured in her ear, his voice thick with growing desire. "You wish to do this?"

Eiryn nipped at his chin, knowing he was giving her one final chance to think before they continued, but she was beyond thinking. "I promise I won't hate you in the morning." Gods he felt so wonderful, she thought, enjoying the feel of supple muscle. "Besides, I'm only a little drunk, and I let you know well before I started drinking I was interested in you."

She'd never heard much in the way of boasting from Elven men and their attributes, though she'd heard how the Wood Elf males were somehow lacking, but certainly not this elf. Briefly she wondered if perhaps he wasn't mixed with another race, or perhaps he was just a fine example of the male Dunmer.

"_Lirirmaer..."_ he murmured softly, causing her to tense. It sounded too much like someone else's name. Saber noted her reaction, laughing in a throaty sultry tone. "It means lovely one in Altmeri."

Snorting in disgust, Eiryn tried to brush his compliment aside. The elf pulled back, looking down at her with a questioning look. "You do not think yourself as beautiful?" He seemed genuinely surprised, and that wonderful smile of his spread over his face when she didn't answer him. Trailing fingers along her jaw, he touched lips with tender affection. "You should, you know. You have very pretty eyes, and I love your smile-."

What a rogue! "You talk too much." Eiryn murmured, shutting him up by drawing his face closer to hers and, pressing her tongue to explore his mouth with a hungry kiss. Drinking him in, his sudden ardor surprised her. This Dunmer's touch could leave a woman weak in the knees!

Saber's fingers trailed down her throat to begin exploring her body. Arching against him, she felt her nerve endings drawn raw, eager for every stroke, every touch, almost trembling with need she hadn't thought possible. Did elves bear special magick to their lovemaking?

Not long, the young Breton was under his spell…

Some time later, Eiryn nestled beside him with sheets drawn up over the both of them. Saber was almost smug. "Am I not an adventure?" He said, and she could tell the mirth being held back in his voice.

"Alright, I will grant you that." She told him with a giggle. "You are more fun that battling vicious nix hounds."

"And was I not a challenge?" He continued his teasing.

She looked up at him, seeing the mischievous glint in his glorious eyes. ""A challenge to get into bed? Hardly."

Saber was trying not to laugh, and feigned indignation. "But its true." He insisted, "I resisted your wonton affections-"

"For all of five minutes." She finished for him.

"I think it was longer than that." The elf replied thoughtfully.

"No," She assured with a self-satisfied look, "It just _seemed_ longer."

"Perhaps you're right." He readily agreed, tightening the arm around to give her a hug. "But at least I tried."

She stifled a chuckle, knowing damn well his attempt, as he called it, had been an act. Or was it? Would he have followed thru if she hadn't taken the initiative? No matter, she smiled to herself, snuggling against him. She was glad she did.

"So tell me." Saber murmured softly, "Do you think you've learned anything of my lessons?"

Poking him in the ribs, Eiryn took some pleasure of his flinching as if ticklish. "If anything, I taught you a thing or two." She said, then cast him a mischievous grin. "And I would daresay you still owe me."

Arched brows rose up, soon followed by his softening expression. "Ah, I see I'm in for a long night then?"

She looked at him sharply, wondering if he meant it. Other men she had were finished the one time. His slow lazy smile was answer enough, and the young scout wondered how much sleep either of them would get that night.


	3. Ch 3 Aftermath

The next morning, Eiryn felt one of the worst headaches she'd ever encountered in the short twenty-two years of her life. Every beat of her heart ended up being an anvil pounding behind her eyes, only reminding her why she rarely if ever touched the Dunmer whiskey known as Sujamma. She found herself sleeping on her stomach in the small bed Saber had paid for in the Earthly Delights, and memories of the night before came rushing at her like a hammer to the already pounding anvil in her head. Oddly she felt no regret with taking Saber up on his offer to teach her some 'lessons'. Desele's comment about his stamina was true enough, and his passion could not be matched. Considering how drunk she had become the night before, she was grateful she could remember the night's activities at all.

A low moan escaped her as she rolled under the blankets, hoping to shut out light and sound in the tiny room. The warmth and movement beside her indicated she'd woken her bed companion, who seemed to sense instinctively her predicament.

"Hangover?" Saber's soft voice sounded too loud even from under the covers. His palm ran seductively up her bare back, brushing aside covers and her unbound hair to tease lips against a shoulder. He was one of the most affectionate lovers she encountered in her limited experience, and wondered how other men would now be compared to him.

Eiryn could only moan a reply, keeping her head half buried under the pillow to keep the light of the room off her face, promising herself to never _ever_ drink Sujamma again! She felt the bed move as the Dark Elf crawled out of it, and by the unforgiving sounds she heard, knew he was rummaging through his things. "Well I did warn you." He commented with what Eiryn felt was too much smugness. "Sujamma had a kick even if you're used to it."

Oh? She thought, then why wasn't he suffering along side her? The night before he drank nearly twice as much as she had, so why didn't he endure the same affliction as she was?

"Here." His voice interrupted her pain, and an elbow nudged her back. "I have something for your headache."

With effort, Eiryn peeked out from the safety of the covers to see a small flask offered to her. "What is it?" Her voice croaked. His handsome face had a grin on his mouth, enjoying her misery. He didn't appear at all affected from too much drink of the night before, not even tired from their all-night tryst. Crouched at the side of the bed, he nudged the small bottle for her to take.

"Its for your hangover." He assured her, "Trust me."

Sniffing the contents, she knew it was some sort of healing potion but the scent didn't seem familiar to her. It was oddly sweet, and when she sipped the thick liquid, reminded her of honey but had the taste of berries. Almost immediately the pain faded, and she felt more alert.

Eiryn sighed in relief, wondering why the taverns and pubs didn't sell such healing potions for their patrons. There would be a market one would assume. "My thanks." She smiled, stretching. Her body had that pleasant ache of all night activities. "And not just for the potion."

He laughed pleasantly before moving to get dressed, tugging on his trousers. "Maybe I should take up Desele's offer to work here." He mused with a tinge of sarcasm to his voice.

Eiryn had no doubt the owner of the Earthly Delights had made such an offer to him, He was that good. "Does this mean I have to pay you?" She stretched again, enjoying being so lazy in the morning hours.

Saber snickered, easily sliding back in beside her. Resting on top, but bearing weight on bent elbows, he nuzzled her neck. Feather light kisses trailed from cheek to mouth. "Oh trust me…you've already paid me in full." He kissed her gently on the mouth, moving those talented lips down to her chin. "With interest."

Trailing fingers through his long hair, Eiryn admired the silken feel. "What now? Are you off to lose yourself in the wilds of Morrowind?" He had mentioned it the night before in-between the night's delights. "The Ascadian Isles are lovely this time of year."

He could in fact lose himself for a very long time in areas all over the Vvardenfell province. So much of the land was still unmapped, and if Caius or any other Blade set out to find the Dunmer, they'd be hard pressed to find him among thousands of his race in the Ashlands or Grazeland regions. She wondered why she was felt protective of this elf, why she'd risk the disappointment of the spymaster in even suggesting that this rogue Blade mislay himself in the backcountry. Pushing aside such concerns for now, Eiryn felt his hand brush across her cheeks, the fingers tickling lips as they explored the planes of her mouth and jaw.

"I'm not sure." He mused, continuing with his playful affections. "A few tattoos, cut my hair, take up hunting, do you think I might pass for an Ashlander tribesman?"

For a brief moment Eiryn considered what he might look like so primitive as an uncultivated tribal Dunmer, and the idea was rather enticing. "Don't cut your hair." She murmured, enjoying the sleek feel of the lengths on her hands and face. "But turning into a savage wouldn't be such a stretch."

Saber feigned indignation. "I will have you know, dear lady, I am quite civilized. I know several languages, have read extensively on history and lore, and have managed to even learn a bit of magecraft. Does that sound like a savage to you?"

"You didn't seem very civilized last night." She whispered in his ear, though he certainly showed her his _'magic'_. Playfully she touched her tongue along the edge of his ear, trailing up to its graceful tip until he emitted a sharp intake of breath.

"Woman-" He gasped, drawing back. "I'd like to be able to walk sometime today!"

Giggling, the young scout decided to give the poor man a break, and released her hold upon him. Saber, however, remained where he was; content to share in the pleasant warmth of the early morning. His ardor surprised her the night before, having the reputed stamina Desele had mentioned, and able to accomplish the feat several times. Indeed he'd be popular if he chose to stay in Suran, or anywhere he traveled.

She stroked his hair, trailing fingernails along his scalp until he almost purred. "And what should I tell Caius?" She murmured softly. "Were you serious about challenging him?"

The Dark Elf remained still with his head against her shoulder for a moment before releasing an indrawn breath. "Tell him…I will return to Balmora in a few days' time."

Eiryn was stunned. "Are you serious?" After all his ranting the night before, of the dangers that no doubt lay in wait for him, not to mention the sheer impossibility of accomplishing the quest? "You're going back?"

Saber shrugged, "I have nothing better to do."

Surprised, the woman frowned. "But you said last night-"

He touched a finger to her lips to hush her. "I've done some thinking. Considered what you said, and now believe there's no harm to at least seeing what this destiny has in store for me." He gave a careless shrug. "Its not as though I can't lose myself at any time, right?" Without waiting for her answer, he moved off the bed to finish dressing. "Might even be profitable, providing I don't get myself killed."

Eiryn fell silent, torn between talking him out of it, and how he would try to accomplish the impossible. It was a daunting task to be certain, one that the Tribunal wouldn't appreciate, let alone most of the people of Morrowind. Naturally they'd assume he was another false Incarnate, and if they knew the Empire employed him, what then? And he was an outlander. How could he be accepted as an Incarnate?

Then again, Saber was no ordinary Dunmer, was he?

Rolling to her side, Eiryn watched him dress, enjoying the graceful movements of his body. Altmeri, elven folk, already had the speed and agility of their race but Saber moved with stealth and grace even exceptional for his kind. His physical prowess was evident, but Eiryn found the easygoing manner he exhibited almost as appealing. Saber even bore a remarkable level of modesty to his talents, never boasting. Although he did tend to exaggerate his stories, the overstatement was more for fun and entertainment.

Watching him dress, Eiryn had to admire his fine taste in clothes. He'd explained through their drinking how appearances could help in swaying someone's opinion of you, so he maintained an odd blend of distinguished gallantry and common sense. Often he could enter into the Great Houses with more welcome than if he appeared as a peasant. The philosophy made sense, which Eiryn felt she might try for herself in investing in some finer clothes, perhaps take a bit more time on her appearance. I never occurred to her that fine clothes and proper attire could be used as a tool, and not one of simple vanity.

His garb was of silks and leathers, being a combination of elegance and style. A long shirt of deep blue silk and embroidery was tied with a finely crafted leather belt, and trousers had the same stitched trim near the cuff. He seemed to prefer dark colors of deep blues and blacks, which only complimented his stormy gray skin and deep red eyes. A matching leather vest with fine inlaid buckles and runic glyphs was worn over the shirt, bearing his unique harness sheath that carried his sword on his back instead of his side.

"Are you staying another day in the fair city of Suran?" Saber asked, tugging on his soft-soled boots that reached just above his knee. His comment was more of a hint she needed to also get dressed. He only paid for the one night.

"No, I need to get back to Balmora." She had to concede that the day was wasting, and she couldn't stay in bed all day. Crawling from beneath the warm covers, she donned the clothes she wore the day before. Basic brown pants, a simple chemise and tight bodice with lacings in the front were quite plain compared to his silks and leathers. "If you're returning to Balmora, why not go with me today? We could be in Balmora by sunset."

Saber cast her an odd smirk, perhaps wondering what her purpose to bring him to Balmora. Though it would certainly bring her favor from Caius, Eiryn also hoped to have a bit more time with the personable elf.

"Can't get enough of me eh?" He teased. "Well…I have that effect on women." Eiryn rolled her eyes, before he continued. "I'm thinking of letting Caius sweat a little. Let him wonder if I'm returning or not as I've said."

Spiteful was he? Well, who could blame him after learning he's to be the Incarnate Reborn? An odd twinge of disappointment mixed with concerns over her actions on this quest. A simple messenger errand turned into a questionable night of debauchery, and how she could look her father in the eye now? By the Nine Divines, she hoped he wouldn't ask either! Lying did not come so easily for her, and especially more difficult for her to lie to Caius. Eiryn also didn't take bedding so casually. There was always the threat of pregnancy, which would certainly end her career, at least for a time. They hadn't been careful, but counting the days of her monthly cycles, Eiryn considered it unlikely anything had been 'produced' in this encounter. It was worth the concern.

Saber was not like other men she knew. Charming was the least of it, Eiryn found she enjoyed his company. Saber was an intelligent man for all his never been in any formal guild outside of the thieves' guild in the Imperial City. He understood language, history, and even various societies. He had impressed her the night before of his knowledge on etiquette, and his unique way of being mutable in different groups. He easily slipped into the seedier societies just as easily as noble society, which had helped him greatly with the tasks he'd already completed.

Despite his insistence that he was no hero, the Dunmer carried an odd mix of honor with his thievery. He avoided killing when he could, depending on stealth and finishing tasks with anonymity. He never stole from the poor, and from the few stories he'd told her of his life, Saber seemed to actually like testing his prowess of skill rather than the actual pilfering.

A mystery to be sure…

Eiryn sighed softly, as she discovered she wanted to know more about this man.

Chastising herself for even thinking too much into it, Eiryn finished gathering up her pack and tugging on her boots. She needed to focus on her duty as a Blade, not some casual bedding with a man she just met. It was simply a passing fancy, nothing more. So why did she feel a twinge of regret now they were parting their ways?

Saber had finished getting ready to go, casually leaning against the open doorway to cross arms and watch her stuff a few items into her small pack. "I'm not certain if I was supposed to tell you about my being the Incarnate." He told her, scratching his chin.

"Caius seemed pretty adamant with secrecy on this matter-"

"I won't mention to him that I know." She assured him. Nimble fingers tied her hair back in its simple braid for her journey ahead. "Just as long as you not mention...you know…this to him."

Saber blinked with a blank expression, and then understood her meaning. "Guild members can't sleep together?"

Eiryn shrugged, uncertain how to explain to him that the spymaster was in fact her father and most likely would be furious if he found out what had happened last night. "Its not encouraged." Was all she would say to him.

"Will I see you Balmora…?" He murmured too softly, she barely heard him.

Completing the task of readying for travel, Eiryn moved to stand and stepped up to him. Reaching up, she brushed back hair from his face to soak in his wondrous eyes. Thick lashes framed each deep red orb, the pupils glowing dim orange in the darkened room. With her palm against his cheek, his eyes closed, the head tilting slightly to lean into her touch. "Perhaps…" She told him softly.

His head turned slightly to brush lips against the flat of her palm, then moved forward to kiss her mouth but not intruding, simply offering a simple kiss good-bye. "I hope so." He whispered.

Eiryn wasn't sure if she wanted to be one of many women this man apparently had, or at least hinted at. The night had been enjoyable, and she had come to accept for what it was; a mutual, enjoyable encounter, but that was all. There would be no promises between them, and though she felt something tug at her heart, and a growing need to know him better, she pushed all concerns aside and leaned into the soft kiss he gave her.

"Until we meet again then." She said, after she drew back. Without giving him a chance to respond, she strode back to Balmora with purpose, her task completed.


	4. Ch 4: Return to Balmora

Eiryn returned post haste to Balmora, heading directly from the strider port to her father's apartment he kept on the seedier end of town. To uphold his cover of the local Skooma junkie, he wanted to be close to the undercurrent of society and the west side of Balmora was certainly the place. Here one found the South Wall Corner Club, known as the 'poor man's' pub. South Wall was also the hangout of any number of less-than-savory individuals and rumored to be the Thieves Guildhall.

Balmora consisted of typical Hlaalu district architecture, with the square adobe building lining streets like stored crates. City walls with gracefully curving archways surrounding the city to offer some semblance of protection from the cruel world, but the city was not known to have many dangers outside of its borders. Only the occasional Nix Hound or Kagouti beast might dare to approach, but even then, more often than not, the fierce city guardsmen took matters well in hand.

Pausing at the threshold of Caius Cosades humble abode, Eiryn hesitating before knocking. Even through she was his daughter, knocking gave him a head's up to who was entering for each Blade was expected to rap on the wooden portal a series of knocks in a code. To anyone else, the knocking was nothing unusual, but to the Blades, it not only announced their arrival as a member, but her father said he could even tell who was at the door by sound alone.

Swallowing hard, she rapped knuckles in the familiar rhythm. Caius' voiced called out for her to enter. Here goes nothing, she thought to herself.

"Ah Eiryn! I was beginning to worry. I expected you to return last night." He said, already moving to shove a pile of miscellaneous items to the floor to clear a spot for her to sit in his cramped living quarters.

His single room home had a scattering of empty bottles, ragged burlap sacks, and broken crockery, even clothing strewn about the unswept floor. The scent of Skooma smoke lingered in the dank air, a sickly sweet aroma mixed with the smell of dust.

_If he missed me, he lost himself in his sugar last night_, she frowned. Eiryn was growing concerned with this growing addiction of his. He'd never spoken of his Skooma habit, but some of the other Blades speculated he'd had it long before coming to Morrowind, and had used it to his own advantage in the guild. No one outside of the guild could possibly consider he was the spymaster, and he handled his addiction certainly better than others had.

The single cot along the one wall hid his Skooma pipe and moon sugar, while the other wall harbored a rickety table with chairs one often felt would either topple over or simply break from any weight. The very chair she sat on wobbled dangerously to falling over, and she steadied her balance by gripping the edge of the table. When was the man going to replace at least the chairs?

"Finding the Dunmer took longer than expected." She told him, and grateful it wasn't a lie. "He says he will return in a few days."

To Caius seemed completely surprised by this message. Had he expected more insurgence from the thief? Brows pulled together in a frown. "Nothing more specific?"

Eiryn shook her head, hoping she could leave soon for fear of letting something slip of her nightly activities. "As you said, he wasn't happy about hearing your orders to return, but he did tell me that he would, and I believe him. He wasn't specific to when."

"And you had no trouble with him?" Caius asked, almost as though he had expected something more to what she said than she was revealing.

"Nothing I couldn't handle." She replied with an inward smile. Yet another truth.

Her father turned his attention inward, considering her words, but seemed resigned. "Well I have something else I need you to do for me." He said finally.

Great, she thought, another stupid errand. Steadying herself for another mote trip, she waited for her new orders.

"I've asked Marayn Dren at the Mage's Guild to provide you some training in a few spells and enchantments." He told her. Eiryn felt her heart nearly jump with joy. Training always meant consideration for advancement, but also that Caius was planning something of importance for her to take on for her next set of orders.

"When do I start?" Eiryn asked, eager to begin training. She'd always loved learning, and Marayn was one of the few mages she actually enjoyed dealing with at the Guild. He was the only male in the association of wizardry of Balmora; he was also the only Dunmer in the guild of mages, and like Saber, unlike most of his kind.

Though by far more reserved than the flamboyant thief, Marayn was soft-spoken and well mannered. He focused on his studies or his students, and kept to the task at hand. The sheer will and intellect the man affirmed why he was one of the more powerful mages within Balmora. The mage's mind was a steel trap of memory, and very little passed by his attention.

Marayn also never bore prejudice against anyone regardless of rank or title. He treated a peasant with the same general good manner as he would a noble or merchant. Eiryn wondered if this same conduct might even extend to Lord Vivec himself! Then again, the mage had ties to one of the most powerful families in all of Morrowind. His cousin was Lord Dren of Ebonheart, spokesman for the Emperor here in Morrowind. The Dren family had a great deal of pull among the House of Hlaalu as well.

Caius was gazing at her oddly, breaking her thoughts on training with the mages. "By the way, where did you find Saber?" He asked suddenly, catching her off guard. She thought the topic had ended.

Gritting her teeth, the young scout blew a frustrated sigh. "He was staying at Desele's Earthly Delights." She told him. Her father was not stupid. Was Caius piecing together where she might have stayed herself last night? Would he know how charming Saber could be, or worse, did the Dunmer already have a reputation here in Balmora as well as Suran? Thankfully there was no brothel in the city…not yet anyway.

The spymaster carried a tightness around his mouth, the rigidity was his attempt at stifling a laugh. "I'm sorry Eiryn-" A hand covered his mouth, and the faded eyes flickered quickly away to hide his humor. "Was he otherwise occupied?"

The young scout frowned, folding her arms over her chest. "Its not that funny." She told him sternly. This only prompted a chuckle erupting from the spymaster, who quickly nodded in agreement. "And don't ask me anything more on this matter." She wasn't about to give details that the elf was naked, and what led from there.

Caius snorted, breaking off a loud guffaw before finally controlling the laugh that threatened to burst out of him. "Well you handled this task quite well." He told her. "Finish up your training with Dren and I just might advance you another rank."

"Well I'm going now then." She scowled at him, giving him warning to not ask her more about her trip to Suran. Might as well work this to her advantage, "And you can find me at the Eight Plates."

"Why not stay here?" He offered, as he always did. It was a little game they played every time she visited.

She threw a discerning look about the clutter and tiny cot that seemed overcrowded in the cramped apartment. Caius snickered at her expression, nodding as he waved his hand for her to go.

Saber stiffened his resolve to meet with the spymaster two days later, giving the appropriate signature knock and waiting for Caius to bid him enter. Standing on the low stoop of the squat little building, the Dunmer couldn't help but let his gaze wonder down the narrow street to see if he'd been followed, or anyone watched. It was an old habit of his, and to his surprise, he found himself hoping to see the young Breton woman upon his arrival. When the familiar voice of the spymaster called from within the apartment, the Dark Elf entered with night vision adjusting to the windowless room.

"Ah, so you've actually come back." Caius said, his demeanor remaining cool. For some reason, the spymaster had remained consistently aloof. Had the man no sense of humor, or was he so dedicated to his role as a leader of the Blades that he saw the thief as something of an insult to their little club?

"Didn't your messenger tell you I would?" Saber challenged him, setting his pack near the door. He was tired and wasn't at all in the mood for a lecture, let alone from Caius.

The spymaster stiffened, gray eyes narrowing to glare. A day's growth of beard marred his weathered face, with bushy browed tugged together in a permanent frown. "She did. Just out of curiosity, what made you change your mind? When you left, I was under the impression you've had enough and was to return to Cyrodil."

"Return to prison you mean." Saber responded in disgust. "That alone would convince me."

"It hadn't convinced you a week ago." Caius pointed out, crossing arms across his chest. His jaw was set hard, raised in question. "So why the sudden change of heart?"

Saber fought the urge to fight, clenching a fist rather than grip the pommel of his sword. "No change of heart, Caius." He insisted. "I find that this little endeavor might turn me a profit, and that is all."

'Indeed?"

"I told you. I'm no hero." He glared back.

The old man was unimpressed. "Care to explain why my messenger took so long in returning?"

Saber almost laughed, except his question seemed sincere albeit inappropriate. Why would he even care of his messenger's whereabouts? But hadn't Eiryn said, the Blades' frowned on members getting too acquainted? "How should I know?"

"She said you were in Desele's, in Suran?" Caius persisted.

"And?" As if that should mean something. Was it even his business? Was he going to ask for details of each encounter he had within the Earthly Delights, or was his interest just for Eiryn?

"I know Desele's is the only place in Suran with rentable beds. Eiryn must have stayed the night." The spymaster's gaze watched his reaction very carefully.

"And you're thinking she must have stayed the night with me?" Saber finished for him, but admitted nothing. Did he think she was a child? Since when do guildmasters have any say in what their members were doing? Wasn't she also a Blades, a _spy_, that was in service to the Emperor? Angered that he'd dare ask something as personable as this, the Dunmer leaned to one side, tapping a finger alongside his chin in pretended consideration. "Let me think…I slept with Myra…Runa…Desele…"

This clearly annoyed Caius to no end. "Did you or didn't you?" The voice grew almost ragged in anger.

Saber frowned in disappointment. So easily baited? "I don't remember." He sneered, curious to know if this spymaster could possibly lose his temper enough to fight him.

Caius stiffened, muscles flinching in his arms as if he'd considered doing just that very thing. For an old man, the spymaster was toned, and not unskilled with the sword. How could he not be, being the leader of a band of spies for the Emperor? Saber lifted hands with a laugh. "Oh settle down Caius. If you are so curious to the activities of your Guild members, perhaps you should ask _her_?" He paused dramatically, "Or perhaps you did, and she didn't give you an answer either I'm guessing?"

"Saber…" Caius warned, his face flushed red in fury. "One last time to give me a straight answer-"

"No." Saber said, looking in directly in the eyes when he spoke, and letting all humor fade. "My answer is no." _No, I won't give you a straight answer, and no, it's none of your damned business!_

Satisfied with the response to his question, Caius couldn't realize what Saber meant and had to believe the elf was simply responding. "Well it would seem I'm stuck with you." He spat, shuffling through a pile of papers in the far corner of the room. "And I already have new orders-"

"Great." Saber muttered, kicking his pack with his foot in frustration.

"I was to give you these orders the last time we spoke, but you ran off-" Caius muttered.

Saber rolled his eyes, finding the control to not throttle the man. "Just tell me what you want me to do." He sighed in frustration.

"You will need to visit the Urshilaku tribe to be tested." Caius told him.  
"Tested?" The Dark Elf scowled, wondering what was he to expect now.

Caius ignored his question and continued. "There you will need to speak to Sat-Matuul, the Ashkhan leader of the tribe, and their wisewoman, Nibani. Tell them your story, and have them test you against the Neveravine prophecies. Once that is done, report back to me-"

"And this tribe is where?" The scowl on Saber's face only darkened.

The spymaster handed him a bag of gold coin. "Its along the north coast of Vvardenfell, North of Maar Gan. You'll need to go to Fort Moonmoth first to pick up some supplies. I hear the Blight is rather bad in that area, so you might need some spells and scrolls that might come in handy."

"And what of a scout?" Saber asked casually.

"A scout?"

"To help me find this tribe." The Dunmer explained. Casually stuffing the coin in his pack, he lifted a strap to his shoulder in preparation to go. "Perhaps I could hire a scout."

"The Woodsman Guild could provide you with one." Caius said, growing suspicious.

"Oh I already have the scout I want in mind." Saber grinned, turning to leave. "I hear Eiryn is a capable enough -"

As soon as his back turned, Caius pounced, grabbing the elf by the shoulder to spin him forcibly against the wall. Using his heavier weight, and his arm, the spymaster pinned the Dunmer to the wall. Despite the elf being slightly taller, the spymaster had the bulk to keep him there. Caius wanted to punch the smug grin off the elf's face. The cocky smile meant he goaded him…again! Perhaps he needed to teach this elf a lesson? "You are not to go near Eiryn, understand?"

"No?" The Dark Elf continued to smile amused by the temper. He had anticipated this very reaction from the spymaster. "And why is that? Who is she to you?"

"I look after my operatives." Caius glowered. "I won't have you insinuating yourself with Eiryn-"

"_Insinuate_?" Saber huffed in indignation. "She's a grown woman, Caius. You behave as though she's a child. Why is that? Why so protective over this particular operative?"

The muscles twitched in Caius' jaw, and the man was very close to actually beat the elf to an inch of his life. However, his attacking Saber only adding to the elf's growing suspicions, and could lead to more trouble down the road. Releasing him in disgust, the spymaster held back his livid anger. "The Blades look after their own."

"And yet-" Saber said, eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "Somehow I doubt the other Blades would attack me like this, let alone ask if I slept with the woman."

Stepping back, Caius realized how it must appear, and his face flushed red. "Just complete your orders and report back to me." He growled defensively. "As for Eiryn, she's too busy to join you in your travels, so pick someone else."

"Is Eiryn, by any chance, in Balmora?" Sabers asked, eyes wide and his face a mirror of innocence.

Why does he provoke me? Caius wondered, fighting the urge to punch him again. "Get out."

"With pleasure." Saber replied, dropping the game to leave as quickly as he could.


	5. Ch Thieves Guild

Once back on the street, Saber knew that Eiryn must still in Balmora, considering Caius looked as though the one vein in his forehead was about to burst when asked about her. He'd never seen the man so angry, and Saber had taken too often delight in provoking the man.

Saber smiled to himself. He took guilty pleasure knowing Caius was human after all, and his reaction to mentioning the young Breton also seemed an intriguing mystery. That was no typical reaction of a guildmaster concerned for a member. No, there was something else. Perhaps they were lovers, he mused. Somehow the idea of the two of them together seemed very wrong, and not just because of the age difference. Why, he was old enough to be her father!

The thief paused, looked back over his shoulder to the square home of the spymaster. If they were related, that would explain why Caius was being so protective, but they looked nothing like one another. And Eiryn said she was Breton. She looked nothing like an Imperial. They were more stout, with wider faces, wide-set eyes, and thinner lips. Eiryn looked more Breton with the lighter frame, the large eyes, and curving mouth…

Perhaps Caius wanted Eiryn, and the feelings were not reciprocated? Again, the idea was rather abhorrent. Although Saber knew her only for the one night, nothing in her manner indicated she faced an enamored guildmaster, and somehow he doubted she'd tolerate that from any man. Still, the reaction the spymaster had might be more personal and only directed to Saber. That idea provoked a wave of anger. Saber knew Caius hated him, and had treated him with distain the moment they met. The cool indifference soon turned into open loathing, and the thief had provoked the man more than once. Still…nothing revealed why Caius held such derision for the Dunmer. Hadn't he fulfilled every stupid duty set to him? Hadn't he followed the ridiculous orders up until the past week?

No longer wishing to waste further endeavor on this mystery, Saber made his way to the South Wall to finish some business there. Thoughts, however, continued to drift towards the young Breton woman, who he had found to be quite remarkable and intriguing.

Friendlier than most of the locals, she was also intelligent and remarkably quick witted. He could sense she held doubts of herself. Nothing outside of her own misgivings seemed to indicate she was incompetent and Saber suspected she had potential if she could overcome her own uncertainties.

The evening spent talking over drinks was one of the most pleasant evenings he had since coming to this gods-forsaken land. She wasn't some of the women adventurers who seemed to have a need to prove themselves against men, nor did she primp herself with false vanity. She was also exotic to his standards.

Shorter than most women, her stature was balanced by the slim, athletic figure she carried with grace. Her hair was a mane of auburn brown, falling to the middle of her back in amazing silken waves once freed from the imprisoning braid.

She had a very young face for her age, with a small curving mouth, lips almost pouty. And marvelous and expressive eyes of deep green flecked with brown-

Chuckling to himself, Saber paused mid stride to recognize how distracted he'd become. Yes indeed, Eiryn was someone he wanted by his side for a time while traveling through this foreign country. With her considerable knowledge of the people and culture, she was clearly the best choice to provide him help with locals as well as being a wellspring of information. She was very forward when it came to her opinions as well, refusing to hold back on important matters. The night of their little talk had certainly won him over, and wanting to know her better.

Eiryn was the one who taken the initiative that night, despite all his bravado, and he couldn't have been more pleased. It was an enjoyable change to have a woman take command, and one who clearly knew what she wanted! She had perhaps a bit too much to drink, he mused, but her interest in him was clear enough when she was sober. He even tried to back out of consideration for her, but found her too demanding, too insistent-

Again, a smile touched his mouth in memory of that night. Such affections from a woman like that could keep a man warm all winter! He was delighted when she asked him to come to Balmora with her, but knew his needed to provoke the spymaster in this petty game he played. He couldn't challenge Caius openly, but the self-righteous indifference the old man had towards him was not easily forgiven. He might be like this with all his so-called operatives, but somehow the Dunmer had doubts on that. No, the distain was for him alone, and clearly not Eiryn. No, Eiryn was special to him, even to the point of breaking his controlled temper.

Once Saber reached the South Wall, he entered the 'poor man's pub' with a warm greeting from familiar faces. He'd come as often as Caius allowed him between 'orders', and now had a place of respite.

"Why…if it isn't Saber himself come back from adventuring!" A loud woman's voice laughed over the usual raucous of the pub. Several faces turned to see his arrival, sharing welcoming smiles and urging for him to sit with them to drink.

Tossing his pack to Master Phane, the barkeep, Saber settled himself amid the strange variety of patrons. The woman who greeted him was a tall Nord, with long blond hair most of which was tied back from her flawless face and nearly white skin. Brilliant blue eyes sparkled back the torch glow, and her rosy mouth grinned widely. She moved behind him, wrapped arms around his neck to lean her lips down against a sensitive ear.

"Habasi has been wondering about a little item you promised her…" She purred.

Saber grinned, feeling his nerves practically tingle in response. "Does she doubt me?" He purred back, enjoying the game. He slipped a small key he'd snatched from a local noble to a room the thieve' guild master had some interest in. The Nord woman took the key, brushing lips against his ear to tease him.

A cat-like Khajiit hissed at the Nord to get out of the way, bringing a tray of drinks for everyone. Chirranirr squirmed between the bodies to plant herself next to Saber, baring teeth in a semblance of a smile. Her whiskers bristled, ears twitched. The tawny strips of her coat were soft against him as she leaned forward. "And what of my prrresent?" She spoke with a half-purr, half rasp in her voice. A paw trailed down Saber's arm, claws raking skin ever so lightly. "You prrromised."

"Ah dear Chirranirr..." He smiled his most charming at her. "I have been amiss in my attentions." Reaching up he moved as though he was to scratch behind her ear, and she purred loudly before he even touched the mottled brown fur. Instead, his fingers moved as if pulling something from said ear, and revealed an expensive ring he'd stolen off a cousin of hers in Suran. "Khinjarsi sends her regards." He chuckled

It was a magical ring the cousin had stolen out of spite years ago, and returning a favor to the young Khajiit, Saber found the bauble and give it to its owner. The cat-woman made an odd rumble sound in her throat, grabbing the ring to slide it on a thick 'finger' of her paw. "Saberrr is my trrruest frrriend!" She purred, throwing arms around his neck to rub her face against his.

He laughed, patting her arm to release her tight grip. Someone handed him a cup of Matze, a strong beer he'd grown accustomed to, while others asked of his recent whereabouts. A young male Woodelf sitting across from him seemed amused by the others' antics. "Word has it, you've met Aengoth the Jeweler, and did that Redoran Job for him."

Saber sipped his drink, and pretended to know nothing about he spoke of. "Do thieves always boast of the jobs they do?" He was curious about the customs here.

The Woodelf, who had given his name as Arathor, winked, "And some even boast to jobs they don't."

"Foolish." Saber shook his head, taking another long drink from his cup. "Why boast when the crime trail can be led back to you? And you're asking me if I stole the Redoran master helm off one of the councilors of Morrowind? Are you mad?" He cast a smug grin at the Bosmer, as the wood elves referred to their race. "Do you have idea how difficult it is to sneak into the Arobar estate to take the master helm under the very nose of Sera Arobar? Doing something like that could get one killed."

"Aengoth has been wanting that job done for months." Arathor laughed, knowing the truth of the matter. For a Bosmer, he was short even by their standards. Blond hair was tied back and up from his heart-shaped face, with a jeweled earring to dangle from one of pointed ears, and three gold rings hung off the other. Dark brown eyes stared out to the world with casual indifference, but Saber knew better. The elf was always aware of what went around him, eager to pick a pocket, or snatch a valuable if it lay within reach.

Chirranirr sat close against him, listening to their play of words. Her yellow-gold eyes blinked slowly in pacification. "Habasi says you are promoted to Captain?"

Saber shrugged, talking into his cup as he took another drink. "Did she? I don't pay attention."

The handful of thieves around him laughed, already knowing his opinion when it came to rank. He'd already made captain when most were still in the early ranks of the guild. "Vanity and trouble." He often told them, preferring to remain anonymous in what he did.

It was all foolishness. Even this obtaining of position Saber held little regard for, being that it served no other purpose than conceit to guild members to further their bragging rights and to what end? To an Imperial jail cell? His only reason for even joining the guild was the side benefit of having bounties paid off should one get caught.

Even with Eiryn's talk of challenges, she held more regard for the actual daring of skill, than actual rank. He sensed that in her immediately. Warming with the memory of the young Breton, Saber settled back in his chair to listen to the bragging game of the pickpockets and brigads around him.

They began sharing their own stories of conquest with thinly veiled boasting and much exaggeration. It was a pleasant game, Saber mused, knowing some of the stories were just that of fiction. One young thief bragged of a job in Sadrith Mora to which an Ebony staff was expertly stolen from a Televani mage, even adding that the very item was beside the very mage and stolen without his even knowing it.

_Close enough_…Saber thought to himself, sitting back to listen to the tall tale. Now he knew what the Bosmer meant by boasting of jobs one didn't even do.

The thieves business here in Morrowind was far different from that of Cyrodil. The guild there was by far more secretive and ran the undercurrent of shadow. Members never admitted to it openly, where here they would sing your own praises, and even took credit not of their own efforts.

The evening wore on, and Saber felt more than a bit of the affects of the never-ending filling cup of Matze he received. It was enjoyable he was well liked here, being he can let his guard down. He never could before, and the people were shady, and though not what one might consider 'trustworthy' they were still good-natured people.

He was also told on many occasions from his new 'friends', that he had a unique personable nature for his race. Here in Morrowind, every Dark Elf he met carried a humorless visage. They took themselves much too seriously here in their homeland, from their religion to the politics. Dark Elves as a whole struck him as basically racist, arrogant, and altogether grim people. Then again, even back in Cyrodil, the Dark Elves often carried a darker edge to them, some to the point of being evil. Thieves, assassins, and the undercurrent of society was rife with them, and even in higher society, one never quite could bring oneself to trust them. They were shrewd players in the political game, and often held disregard for the other races.

Saber however, never perceived himself as 'good' or 'evil' but self-preserving. His rules were simple; if attacked, defend to the highest level of one's abilities. He avoided killing when he could, but he didn't berate himself over the 'righteousness' or 'wrongness' of killing. He also accepted that using his race's dark reputation sometimes enveloped intimidating others to get what he wanted. But this avoided a fight, then was it 'evil'? It was ponderings such as these he simply refused any inner monologue and accepted doing whatever tasks that were required of him in order to survive…

This however, did not include thieving. It wasn't the stealing that he enjoyed, but the using of his skill. Trained from the age of five in stealth, Saber knew he was very good at what he did. Picking locks, or pockets, as well as hiding in shadow or pilfering goods from under the very nose of the owner carried a high level of excitement and self-pride. He didn't even need others to know of it. It was enough to know that he was that good.

The Nord woman snaked arms around his neck again from behind, and Saber felt the pleasant touch of lips against the tip of his elongated ear. "I've missed you Saber…" She whispered seductively. He could smell the scent of perfume she wore, intermingling with the aroma of Imperial brandy she drank. "Let's go someplace more private."

Briefly Saber considered, but oddly enough, wasn't in the mood despite the chills her breath against his responsive ear affected. He trailed fingernails along her bare forearm near his neck. "Another time, Sottilde, my dear. I just need sleep tonight, and tomorrow I leave for Maar Gan."

"Maar Gan?" Her sultry voice sharpened in disgust. "There's nothing in Maar Gan."

"Indeed." He smiled, turning his head to look up at her. Her lovely face was twisted into a delightful pout, as she was not happy with his refusing her. "But it's nonetheless a long trip and I need my stamina for the journey."

Blue eyes narrowed, and her full mouth thinned into a line. "You're seeing someone else." She stated suddenly.

Now curious to why she'd think that, Saber pulled her arm off so he could turn in his seat to see her better. "I am?"

Her arms withdraw altogether, and folded across her chest. "That's why a man would refuse such an offer." She stated with conviction.

Saber held his laughter in check, not wishing to insult her further. "Is that so? And it can't possibly because I've walked all the way from Suran this day?"

The scowl deepened. "A strider could bring you to Balmora within hours. Why in the Nine Divines would you walk instead of take a Strider?"

"I hate bugs." He grinned, not lying. He hated the cursed Striders, and the gentle sway often made him feel seasick. They stood nearly three stories high, with their bodies being all legs. What was even more disgusting was how the drivers, often referred to as a caravaner, hollowed out the carapaces of the insects and then poked and prodded the beasts' innards to whichever direction they needed to go. The very thought made him queasy, and he wondered how long before the Empire would bring horses to Morrowind, an altogether more civilized means of travel.

Sottilde wasn't convinced. "If you're seeing someone else, why not just tell me?"

Unable to hide his amusement of her jealousy, Saber tugged her forearms so that he could clasp her hands in his own. Arms were stiff with indignation. "I'm not seeing anyone, Sottilde." He assured her. "Any more than you are."

She drew in a frustrated breath of air, glaring at his assumptions. "Now I know you're seeing someone-"

He barked a laugh, thinking the whole things silly. There had been no promises between them, and the Nord woman was known for her enjoying several men's attentions. "My refusing you has nothing to do if I'm bedding someone else." He told her, trying to make amends. "I'm tired. I'm drunk." He flashed a wide grin. "Though I suppose if I gave you a chance, you might convince me otherwise?"

He knew she was too angry with him now, her own mood lost in his teasing her. Shaking his hands off, Sottilde sniffed in distain. "Your loss." She snapped, stomping off.

Arathor shook his head; "You couldn't go along just to appease her, could you?" He said with a smirk "Now she'll be in a mad snit all night."

Saber finished his Matze. "I was telling her the truth of it." He said with a wink, "Its not my fault she thought I was lying. Perhaps you should go make her feel better."

"She hates short men." The Bosmer grunted. "And I can't stand my woman that tall."

Saber could see why. A woman like Sottilde could hurt a small man like Arathor. He stood barely five feet, against Sottilde's six. Saber's only saving grace as he was taller than most Dunmer males, but Sottilde was still a good few inches taller than he was. Not that he cared for tall women, or Nords for that matter. Saber found Sottilde a pleasant evening past time. Arathor had a good point. Short women had their appeal- Yes shorter women…women such as Eiryn, yes, he could see the appeal in that.

"Would the scout's guild be open this late?" Saber asked the wood elf.

Arathor nearly coughed his drink out of his nose. "Scout's Guild? What in the name of Oblivion would you go there?"

"I need to find a scout for my trip." Saber told him. He remembered that Arathor also knew of Caius and had been the one to direct the Dunmer directly to him when he first arrived in Balmora. The Bosmer knew almost everybody in Balmora. "Perhaps you know this scout…Her name is Eiryn?"

"Ah yes, Eiryn Acques." The smaller man nodded with a smile. "Now she's a good height, that one."

"Is she in Balmora?"

Arathor was no fool, and his dark brown eyes turned sharply to appraise him. "And you want her to be your scout?"

"I'm told she's proficient enough in her craft."

"Oh she's capable enough." He readily agreed, then twisted his heart shaped face into a frown. "Its Caius I'd be concerned with. I know they are friends, and he's rather protective of her."

"That sugartooth doesn't scare me." Saber felt the smile fade from his face. "And what is Eiryn to him?"

The Bosmer shrugged, taking another drink of his beer before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Not sure. Rumor has it they are an item, others speculate they're just close friends. I don't see how any of it matters, only that Caius is very protective of her."

"You think they're a couple?" Saber tapped fingers against the grain of the wooden table, pondering on the mystery himself.

"As a matter of fact, I don't. I think perhaps Caius is a relative of sorts, and set to keep an eye out for her. An uncle or a cousin perhaps." The elf leaned forward to lower his voice. "But rumor has it Caius has some connections that makes men disappear, so take my advice friend, and keep your hands off that young Breton."

Leaning back in his chair, Saber folded hands behind his head to think. So Caius isn't above using his 'connections' to keep Eiryn chaste? This seemed unusual, though there was nothing and no one he could ask on the conduct of the Blades. They remained secretive, rather hush-mouthed, and many never knew of the others' existence. But if Caius were a relative, then his over-protective nature made sense. Saber wasn't exactly being singled out as much as Eiryn was being protected.

Saber sipped his Matze slowly, enjoying the sour taste rolling over his tongue. No, Caius had been obvious of his thoughts on letting Saber into the Blades the first day they met. He loathed being ordered to accept a thief into his guild, but Saber found it seemed even more personal than that. It wasn't just his being a thief, since there were other thieves that the Guild used for certain jobs. No, there was something else that fired that man's hatred of him.

Saber even considered it might be something as simple as racism. Dark Elves were not exactly well received no matter where you went. Yet Caius spoke well of Marayn Dren at the Mages' Guild, and even of some members of House Hlaalu who were Dunmer. Now things pointed to something even deeper than what Saber could not fathom. Caius disliked him for some other reason he wasn't sharing. And his reaction to hiring Eiryn as his scout was a bit excessive. _Was it protecting the girl from me, or keeping her in the confines of Balmora? _

Even as the Dark Elf thought this, he knew the girl must be chafing at the confines. She mentioned wanting a challenge and she had a remarkably free spirit, and obviously Caius wasn't giving her any chance to prove herself. He'd continue to keep her safe as well as he could, but why have her in the Blades at all? Was he only condescending to her desires?

"Where might I find Eiryn?" Saber asked softly.

Arathor cocked an eyebrow at him, thinking him mad. "You walk a treacherous road my friend." He said, "But if you refuse to take my warning, then see if she might be at the mages' guild. I hear she's being trained there."

"I just might do that." Saber smiled.


	6. Ch 6 Passions

Eiryn focused her mind once again on the ancient words, and the precise movements of her hands as she drew glyphs in the air before her. She knew Marayn Dren watched her every move, and would say nothing if she did something wrong. The eldery mage preferred to have his students learn the hard way, often letting them feel the sting of magic gone wrong, and then hinting at where they might have erred after the fact. It was, at the very least, an effective method to not do the same mistake twice. Such training, however, didn't seem quite as effective to Eiryn.

She was trying to master a simple levitation spell, and only managed an inch or two off the ground before dropping back to the floor. Unsure to what exactly she was doing wrong, she tried again and again, each time painfully reminded that magic wasn't exactly her best skill. Marayn implied at what could be the cause of her failure, but the young scout found herself muddled in frustration to figure out the answer.

This was the tenth attempt at the spell, and after this, she'd have to wait until the next day before building up her _mana_ enough to try again. Her stomach swooned as the spell worked, her feet slowly lifting off the ground. Eiryn clenched teeth, preparing for yet another failing and was glad she did. Dropped suddenly, her feet crumpled beneath her, and she was soon sprawled at Mararyn's feet.

The aged Dunmer's face pinched in disappointment. "Can you tell me what you did wrong?"

Looking up from her prone position, Eiryn huffed in aggravation, blowing hair out of her eyes. Marayn was stoic above her, hands folded in the sleeves of his robes. The grim faced man kept his lips pressed into a fine line, trying to hide his frustration with her.

Marayn Dren, like many Dark Elves, had the dark gray-ash hue of his race. Red eyes adjusted to the dim light of the mage's guildhall, and Eiryn found the facial scarring and tattoos he bore disquieting. It seemed odd that a mage would carry tribal markings, but the man was reputed to be over 100 years old. In his younger days, he might have been a tribal warrior, or perhaps all Dunmer wore such things. His hair was dark as ink and tied back from his face to gather near the nape of his neck. A dark blue robe shrouded him like a cloud, with wands tucked into the belt, and the flash of rings on hands showing off his proficiency with enchantments.

Before she could reply, someone else spoke then, a voice she immediately recognized from the slight Imperial accent.

"Lack of focus, I should think." Saber said. "Or too much doubt in one's abilities."

He'd seen the whole thing, she groaned inwardly, and looked over to see the Dark Elf leaning casually in the doorway, with ankles crossed and a playful smirk on his face. His hair was tied back in a single braid, with some loose tendrils falling over his eyes that twinkled in amusement. He wore the same light leathers of black and dark blues, even bearing his sword on his back as if he'd just come back from Suran.

He clucked his tongue, shaking his head with mock disappointment. "A mage's true power is the will, but also that of confidence." His smile returned, and refocused on the mage standing over her. "Muthsera Dren. Its good to see you again."

Marayn nodded grimly, unimpressed by the younger Dunmer or his term of respect. "I'm heartened you remember what I taught you." He said, helping Eiryn back to her feet. "Even if you did use your magic only for mischief."

"How was I to know that Sharn had no sense of humor?" Saber was trying hard to not laugh.

"She's an _Orc_, isn't she?" Marayn pointed out with a scowl. "You're lucky she didn't turn you into a rat."

Saber finally broke into laughter, "Of that I have no doubt. Turned into a rat, then eaten head first." He winked at Eiryn. "Besides, Muthsera Dren, as I recall that was the first time I ever saw you laugh."

Eiryn chuckled at the thought herself. Orcs were often considered barbaric, though many were also educated and could be counted on well enough in battle. Sharn ra-Muzgob was one of the few mage Orcs within the guild, rumored to be dabbling in necromancy, though no one could prove it, and her lack of humor was well known.

Marayn only grunted softly as he chose to ignore the glib remark, and replaced his hands into the folds of his dark blue robe. "Is there any reason why you're here, Feryl?" Marayn asked, clearly wishing the thief to find something to do…outside of the guildhall. Eiryn frowned, wondering about the name Feryl…

"I'm actually here to see Eiryn." Saber grinned, turning his attention to the young Breton. "I know it's rather late, but I have a possible job for you."

"She's done here." Marayn muttered, brushing past them both as he left the room to give them privacy. "Read that last chapter again before tomorrow-"

Eiryn rolled her eyes behind his back before turning to face Saber. "Feryl?" She rose an eyebrow in inquiry.

He smiled sheepishly. "Marayn was insistent on a real name before he'd provide me with any training."

"But I thought Feryl was also a nickname." She said.

"He doesn't know that." Saber snickered.

"And this job you mentioned?" She asked, wanting him to get to the point. Part of her couldn't help but wonder how he found out where she was, and why he sought her out.

"A scouting job." Saber explained, moving to sit on the table in the small room. "To the Urshilaku camp north of Maar Gan. Do you know where that is?"

Eiryn's face frowned in thought, "Yes, along the northern coast, in the Sheogorad region. But it's simple enough to get there."

Saber paused, distracted by the loose curls from her braid that were pasted to the sweat on her face. She also wore a snug fitting tunic made of a plain blue cloth, only emphasized her lovely trim waist, and was damp in perspiration. He'd watched her for some time before he'd spoken, enjoying her tenacious resolve to master the spell, and how hard she worked to try to accomplish it. "I will understand if you don't wish to go…"

Her mouth curled into a smile. "Its not that-" She started to say, shifting uncomfortably to either foot. "How did find me?"

The Dark Elf flashed a boyish grin. "Balmora isn't that big of a place." He explained. "I asked around. So will you be my scout?"

According to the Blades' code, there was nothing stopping her from going with him. As an apprentice in training, side quests were often taken to maintain a cover identity, and hers had always been as a scout. It would be foolish not to accept his offer, and frankly, the idea of traveling so far into hostile territory was very appealing. Despite her training here, Balmora was safe, secure, and hardly tested her other skills. But the Ashlander camp was easy enough to find. Why then, did he want a scout to get there? Perhaps he wanted a repeat of what transpired a few nights before…?

"When do you need to leave?" She asked, not certain if this was a good idea to go or not. Part her felt nearly giddy at the thought of another night with him, but her more practical side reined in such urges to at least try to remain a bit respectability this time.

The Dunmer hopped off the table. "In the morning, but if you need a few days, I can wait."

"Is this anything to do with what Caius has set you to do?" She murmured in a soft tone, hoping no one was listening. Here was a man who was set to be the Incarnate. She hadn't expected he was actually going to return to Balmora to finish, and was curious now why he had come back at all. She'd have to remember to ask him later.

Saber looked beyond the door, then back at her. He kept his voice low. "My adventure begins…"

So meeting with the Urshilaku was part of his quest, which made sense. They were an elusive tribe. Some hinted they knew more of this Neveravine Prophecy more than any other. "Alright." She smiled, feeling being part of his adventure might prove one of the greatest challenges of all. "I'll meet you in the morning."

Saber slid off the table to step closer to her, and Eiryn nearly stepped back. She wasn't certain why, figuring she had mixed feelings on his wanting her as a scout, his intentions, perhaps knowing her response to him if he touched her. The very thought of the other night sent shivers up her spine.

"Would you permit me to buy you a drink?" He asked. Saber sensed her wariness, could see her hesitation. Did she regret the other night? The next morning she didn't seem to, but having too much Sujamma had provided an excuse to why she reacted the way she did.

"Hoping to get lucky?" She asked, the arms still rigid across her chest, almost as if protecting herself. The tone was dry, and Saber was familiar with women to know her thoughts.

"If you mean that I would be spending another marvelous evening in your company, even if just for a drink, as good fortune, then yes, I hope to get lucky." He grinned. His smile was disarming. No wonder he said he'd charm his way with blighted kagouti!

"Just a drink, eh?" She raised a mocking brow.

His eyes brightened, and expression turned to mischief. "Meet me at the Strider port in half an hour?" He asked, confident of her answer.

"Do you intend we go to the Council Club?" Eiryn asked in shock. That was the closet pub to where he was speaking but only nobles and merchants frequented such a place. She was hardly dressed for the occasion.

"Trust me." He smiled, moving to leave. He walked backwards a few steps, grinning at some private joke.

"I trust you as far as I can throw you." She called after him, enjoying the sound of his laughter.

"I look forward to it." His voice retorted.

After donning a cloak to keep off the evening chill, Eiryn walked to the strider port on the south of town. A breezy wailing sound echoed in the quiet of night. The sound of the Strider call always left her feeling somewhat lonely. The call was a 'song' the caravaner told her, to communicate with the other Striders miles away. The sound itself modulated a sorrowful note, yet the young scout took small comfort in knowing that it was actually singing to another of its kind it couldn't even see, and would likely never even meet.

Much to her surprise, Saber arrived also wearing a cloak with the cowl drawn over his head, and the pommel of his sword peeking from off his right shoulder. In his free hand, he carried a basket. She nearly laughed out loud at the obvious intention. "A late night picnic?" She said, clapping her hands. "Are you trying to court me, good sir?"

He looked at her askance, eyes glowing orange red in the twilight. "That would assume I was some form of gentleman and we both know that is far from the truth." He raised the basket to show the bottle of wine he brought, with a simple meal of cold meat, cheese, and bread. "I'm no cook, but I know you hadn't eaten at the guild."

"How did you know?" She was famished.

He flashed a grin. "Because Marayn did the same thing to me when I was being trained. I swear the man never eats or sleeps." Leaning into a bow, he offered his arm to her as a gentleman would.

"You trained with Marayn Dren?" Eiryn said, taking his offered arm to follow him to the city gates. "And what spells were you taught?"

"You mean, what sort of mischief was I up to?" He asked, continuing at her nod. "I was taught the usual levitation spell, water walking…and telekinesis which is also very helpful, particularly with switching things on people's worktables. Sharn was working on some potion or other, a few ingredients had been mysteriously switched, and it sort of blew up in her face."

Eiryn covered her mouth to suppress her giggling.

"Yes," Saber told her leading her down near the Odai river that cut through Balmora. He choose a grassy bank for their picnic just outside the city walls, giving them enough safety to harkens guards if the need arose, but privacy enough to enjoy their late liaison. "I thought it was very entertaining myself, as did the other mages. Sharn however did not. It took her days to get the stuff out of her hair and robes, and of course I had to clean the ceiling for my penance." He paused once he discovered the spot he wanted to set the basket down. "At any rate, it certainly honed by levitation skills."

Eiryn helped spread a blanket he'd brought, and settled to have him serve up the simple fare. "How did you not get turned into a rat?"

He poured the wine. "Mages are not allowed to cast spells as punishment. Sharn could've lost her membership to the guild if she tried to retaliate. My only saving grace was that I wasn't a member, and I apologized profusely." He shrugged, "I still watch my back with Sharn though."

"No doubt." Eiryn well knew the Orc's temper. "And does trouble follow you everywhere?"

He was just taking a sip of his wine, and nearly choked. Coughing he grimaced at her. "Me? Trouble? What makes you say that?"

She grinned, "Call it a woman's intuition."

He offered her glass to her to sip. "I try very hard to avoid it when I can."

Once she took the glass, his hand wandered to her face, brushing aside an errant lock of hair over her eyes. The soft affection caught her off guard, sending butterflies through her stomach. "I should mention," He added softly, "that Caius has told me to stay away from you."

Her green eyes sparkled in sudden anger. "What?"

The Dark Elf watched her reaction, still not sure what to make of it. "I mentioned about wanting you as my scout, and he left no doubt that I was to find someone else."

"Did he?" Eiryn rankled at the thought. It was bad enough her father kept her so damned safe and sound in the city, but to go so far as to forbid someone to hire her, or was there more to it than that?

"He also asked if I slept with you." Saber continued, tilting his head slightly to consider her response. It wasn't his intention to spark the fires of contention, but he wanted her to know the man's suspicions. Not unexpectedly she flared in antagonism. This mystery intrigued him. "What are you to him?"

Eiryn stiffened, drawing back, and suddenly realizing the Dark Elf was clearly wondering what her relationship was with the spymaster. Sworn to secrecy, she fumed as to what to tell him. Her father repeatedly treated her as if she was only five years old! Couldn't he see how others might find his over-protectiveness as suspicious?

"You're not doing a very good job of avoiding trouble if you seek me out after being told to stay away from me." She pointed out, changing the subject.

Saber relaxed, leaning against an outstretched arm to bend forward. "Should I stay away from you?"

"If you don't want the wrath of Caius upon her neck." She smiled, "But why is it you seem to wish to provoke him?"

"It is petty isn't it?" He sighed.

"It is if that's why you're here with me now."

Saber looked at her sharply at her assumption. "I'm here because I want to be with you. Caius has nothing to do with it."

"And asking me to be your scout?"

Before speaking, the Dark Elf paused, not wishing to insult her intelligent by being flippant. "Because I need a scout, someone that can watch my back, who is competent, and frankly, I thoroughly enjoy your company. Provoking Caius is only a side benefit."

"And having a bedmate for the trip doesn't hurt either." She said in a bland tone, turning slightly to sip wine and admire the stars twinkling above them. Was she just another conquest? Would she be just another brief memory of a good time?

He knew the sudden coolness of her tone and the cause of it. "If you do not wish to sleep with me, that is your choice. I would still want you with me."

By her raised brow, he knew she wasn't sure to believe him. "Why?"

"Why?" He echoed.

"You truly want me specifically as your scout, just for the sake of scouting?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Because there is a whole guild full of competent scouts that wouldn't get you into trouble with Caius." She told him, a small crease on her forward indicated her trying very hard not to frown.

"But they are not as pretty." Saber grinned, "Nor as fun to be with."

His demeanor was very disarming, and Eiryn sighed as anger abated. Not that she fell for any of his flattery. Men could well cause other women to swoon with a kind word, a soft compliment, or even a seductive kiss, but Eiryn considered herself a bit more practical than that. "And I'm to believe you'd be satisfied if I refuse to be your bedmate as well?"

He measured her words carefully, and then spoke softly. "If that is your wish, and your stipulations in traveling with me, I would still accept your terms." A smiled tugged at his mouth. "I would never force you to do something you would not wish to do."

Still not entirely convinced, she mimicked his posture and remained stern. "Then I must insist those are my terms." She watched for his reaction, and saw disappointment. "Still want me as your guide?"

"Without hesitation." He replied, the smile returning. "You underestimate yourself, Eiryn. And your value."

The young woman shifted her position to cross legs. "And what do you know of my worth?" She challenged him, "Based on a single night's bedding?"

He snorted a laugh. "I do not judge you based on our night together, but on what you told me. Have you forgotten your telling me about the Ashlanders, and the customs of the Televani? What of the Guar herds or Kagouti mating rituals? You know so much about the lay of the land, and how to expect the change in weather. Such things are important to know for a scout. You speak your mind, which I admire greatly, and your only flaw is your own lack of faith."

"Lack of faith?" She asked, with a frown. How could he so easily appraise her?

"That is why your levitation failed." He explained. Lifting his hand, he cupped fingers to have sparkles fly off the fingertips into an arch. Letting the tiny lights flow between fingers, he built the magical ball of light to the size of an apple, admiring her face in the warm glow. "Strength of will, focus, and faith that you _can do it_ is the power behind magick and many other things you do in life." The ball of lightning snuffed out suddenly, leaving a wisp of smoke to furl in the dark.

"And here I thought I was boring you with all my talk the other night." She snickered.

"Far from it." He told her, rifling through the basket to prepare her something to eat. "All the more reason I want you with me on this trip. Just to have someone to talk to."

"Even though I won't sleep with you?"

The Dark Elf paused, gauging if she was serious. "I'll content myself with your delightful company." He answered her, cutting off a piece of bread to touch to her lips. She accepted, wondering what sort of adventure this trip was going to entail. More importantly, how Caius was going to take the news?

When she finished eating and accepted a cup of wine, Eiryn was determined to not get drunk this night. The thought of another night of passion made her feel warm, but this time she wanted to be sober. She was going to remain insistant to being chaste on the trip, but this night however….

As they walked back to the city, she paused near the strider port to hop playfully on the first step in order to wrap arms around the Dark Elf's neck and drew him into a sudden and passionate kiss.

"I thought you didn't want-" he started to say, only to have his remark muffled by another kiss, this one more demanding. At first, he struggling only from the shock of her abrupt affection, but soon accepted the inevitable and relaxed. Her tongue parried against his, hands griping his shirt to keep him against her and remain upright.

When she finished, she gave a smug grin. "I never said I wasn't going to sleep with you tonight."

His eyes lit up, "So why the stipulation at all?"

"I need to know that I'm wanted for my skills as a scout." She explained, hopping back down the single step to head towards the Eight Plates Inn to where she stayed when visiting Balmora. Saber followed, amused by her reasoning.

"And how am I to know where you place value upon _me_?" He challenged her. "Or is my use to you only as a skillful bedmate?"

She laughed at the absurdity. "I'll let you know in the morning!"

"Wench!" He feigned an offended hiss at her. He went to grasp her hand, only to find her jumping back with a playful laugh. Mocking him, she made a face, and started skipping down the street out of his reach. And she was sober? Amused at her antics, he bolted into a rush only to find she anticipated his running, and raced down the street.

By the time he caught up, she was at the Eight Plates, where she let him snatch her up in his arms in the protective alcove of the Inn's entrance. Out of breath, she laughed, making a show of struggling against him. "Ready to prove your worth to me, rogue?" She asked him in a low sultry tone.

Amazed by her sudden change of mood, he answered her by running fingers along the side of her face. "Eager to please, my lady."


	7. Ch 7 Revelations

_Saber found himself on the edge of a desolate land, with winds buffeting hard against him, whipping hair and grit across his face. A figure in a golden mask stood before him, tall and formidable, speaking in a voice like thunder. ""Lord Nerevar Indoril, Hai Resdaynia! Long forgotten, forged anew! Three belied you, three betrayed you! One you betrayed was three times true! Lord Voryn Dagoth, Dagoth Ur, steadfast liegeman, faithful friend, bids you come and climb Red Mountain! Beneath Red Mountain, once again, break your bonds, shed cursed skin, and purge the n'wah from Morrowind!"_

_The wind blew stronger, forcing Saber to wince against the dirt and dirt that stung his face, and a rush of trepidation filled him. Dagoth Ur…! _

Bolting upright, Saber blinked, looking around the tiny room he was in, and found himself disoriented to where he was. Nerves were raw, his body ready for flight or fight, and he was panting as if he'd been running for too long. A hand touched his shoulder, causing him to flinch and suck in a gasp of air.

"What is it?" Eiryn asked, sitting up beside him to rest her chin on his shoulder.

Unsettled by the dark feelings from the dream, Saber wiped sweat off his face. "Nothing, Just a bad dream." He muttered, hoping to convince himself more than her.

"Did you want to talk about it?" The woman next to him murmured.

"No," He replied a bit too harshly than he wanted. Softening the hard edge of his tone, he patted her hand on his arm. "Its just a dream."

"Its still early yet, I think" Eiryn told him, "We could sleep in some more if you like."

"No-" Saber said, unable to shake the uneasy sense of trepidation off. He shifted to get out of bed to dress. "We should get going."

"I have to talk to Marayn about leaving, and to speak to Caius." She said, obviously not looking forward to meeting with the spymaster. Saber however was. Something about the restrictions the spymaster placed on this wondrous woman raked the freedom-loving Dunmer's sense of morals. More importantly, he abhorred the man who would dare try to keep her back from her full potential. There was no doubt in his mind, that Caius was more of the cause of Eiryn's doubts than anything else. Having his own ghosts of his past to haunt him, Saber wanted to help Eiryn free herself of hers. Only, why did the spymaster have sort of control of her? Why did she let him manage those doubts?

They hurried to dress, and Saber was more than happy for his new scout to set the pace of their morning. Eiryn nearly transformed before him, taking command of what supplies they'd need, and what route they needed to take. It entailed a rather long ride on one of those wretched Stilt Striders. He finally had to admit his aversion to riding the 'bugs'. She didn't seem phased. Perhaps others had the same feeling of the main form of transportation. Eiryn was more than happy to oblige him and arrange for the mage's guild to send them as far into the Ashlands as possible. This meant into Ald Ruhn guildhall, then they'd have to either take a strider or walk to Maar Gan.

Saber didn't look pleased. "I will ride if I _have_ to." He told her, clearly not wishing to be anywhere near what he continued to refer as 'the big bugs'.

Now came the part to confront Caius, and even with this Eiryn managed to take authority. Facing the Dark Elf she gave him a stern and direct stare. "I will handle this, understand?" She must have sensed how tremulous the situation was he had with the spymaster. She considered it might not be a better idea to simply meet him at the mage's guild, but he insisted he wanted to offer his support and face the spymaster's direct order he was refusing to follow. "The last thing I need is the two of you fighting."

Nodding, Saber splayed hands to show he bore no weapons and would do as she said. Not to say he wouldn't defend her if it came to it-

Knocking on the door of Caius' house, the door opened to have them face a spymaster who focused his attention first on Eiryn where a smile began to spread, then suddenly disappeared at seeing the Dark Elf standing behind her.

"What are you doing here?" He glowered at the elf. "I told you your orders." By his dark expression, Saber recognized he also wanted to know why he was with _her_.

Saber said nothing, letting Eiryn take charge of the situation because this was exactly what she needed. At first he wasn't sure if she would. Her hesitation possibly stemmed from intimidation, but this was all the more reason she needed to confront the man.

"We need to talk." She finally said.

Caius' gaze narrowed dangerously to the Dark Elf. "Do we?" He snapped, stepping back to allow them to enter. Once inside, the door shut with a bit too much force, shaking the frame of the small house. "And what is it we need to talk about?"

Saber didn't miss the tension the older man had, the muscles on edge in his shoulders and arms. The spymaster might simply assume that the Dunmer wished to provoke him, but that was no longer the case. He wanted Eiryn to face up to him, to come into her own. Men like Caius would never respect others unless they stuck up for themselves, but the dark stubborn set to his chin proved his inability to listen to reason. This was not going well-

"I'm told you've forbidden Saber to go near me." Eiryn said, refusing to take a seat this time and instead, folding arms defensively and glared at Caius.

The older man was unimpressed, and sneered at the focus of their conversation. "And to not hire you as a scout." Caius admitted, pointedly throwing dark glares at Saber again "Only because he has his own orders to concern himself with. And you should well remember, that I am the spymaster here, and I make the decisions."

"Not when it concerns scouting jobs, you don't." She retorted, anger rising. "You order me to do certain duties, but when it comes to being a scout, that is my decision to make. You and I had an agreement, Caius. I have yet to see you fill your end of the bargain."

Saber frowned, curious to what agreement that might be. From the livid anger from Caius, and the growing tension, the Dark Elf knew they were now discussing things not meant for him. Remaining silent, and very still, he remained near the door in case things got out of hand, certain to take Eiryn with him if he needed to.

"Our arrangement goes only so far-" Caius' tone grew hesitant, careful to not reveal too much. "Saber is not what he appears, Eiryn. No matter what he's told you."

"She knows." Saber dared to speak, but he wanted the truth to out in the open now. If Eiryn was a Blade, what did it matter if she knew about the quest of the Neveravine? "She knows what the Emperor is planning."

"Does she?" Snapped Caius, turning his wrath upon the true focus of his anger now. "Does she also know about your past? Your being in prison? Your training?"

The Dark Elf stiffened. Something about the man's tone indicated more than the obvious, that he was not talking anything remotely having to do with Saber's past few years. "She knows I'm a thief, if that if that is your meaning-"

"No, it's not my meaning." The man snapped. His lips twitched into a smug and knowing smile. "Did you share with her of your past? Your life in the Imperial City? Does she know of the years before becoming a thief?"

Saber frowned, a dawning realization spread through him that perhaps Caius knew more than he gave him credit for. "What do you mean?"

"Does she know about Nekros?"

Without thinking, Saber found his hand on the hilt of one of the daggers on the harness across his chest, but stopped himself before he drew the blade out. Unfortunately, both Eiryn and Caius had seen the motion, and the odd mix of expression indicated he'd made an error in judgment. He was no longer in the Imperial city, but in a foreign land. What's more, his movement was only done by instinct, showing a side of himself he hadn't wanted anyone to see.

Caius moved fast for an old man, rushed up to shove Saber hard against a wall nearly knocking his breath from him. "Do it." He snarled, his faces inches from the Dunmer who stared in horror at the anger and knowledge that the spymaster knew more about him than anyone else alive. "What is it, Feryl? Lost the nerve? Isn't that what assassins do when someone discover as to who they are? To kill them?"

"Saber?" Eiryn's voice broke the tension. "What is he talking about?"

Now the focus of her attention, Saber remained pinned to the wall, releasing his grip on the dagger's hilt. "That was a long time ago, Caius. And I was never an assassin-"

Caius feigned surprise. "No? You were never trained by Nekros?"

Eiryn stepped closer, her face taut with confusion. "Who is Nekros?"

"His master." The spymaster answered, relaxing his hold on the elf only slightly. "Shall I tell her the story, or should you?"

"You seem to think you know the story well enough." Glared Saber. He wanted to know what Caius knew. He hadn't expected anyone ever finding out, certainly not while he was here in Morrowind. The Dunmer realized he had underestimated Caius and his resources.

"Nekros was one of the most vicious, most cruel assassins in all of Cyrodil." Caius stepped away, enjoying the dark fury on Saber's face that he knew so much about him. "How old were you then, when he took you as an apprentice? Five, maybe six?"

"Close enough." Saber answered, the eyes darkened as he let the man continue.

"So that makes it six years of training to kill, raised on death and pain like mother's milk, wouldn't you say?" Caius didn't turn his back, wondering why Saber hadn't attacked them both yet. He was oddly silent, staring back, motionless. "And then Nekros is found floating in the river, his throat slit from ear to ear. How old were then?"

Without blinking, Saber replied. "Twelve…or so."

"Twelve years old…" Caius nodded slowly. "Old enough to take up another guild if you needed to. Who would guess you already trained by that age, eh?"

Eiryn looked horrified. "And you killed Nekros?" And was only a _child?_

Saber remained silent, knowing all to clearly how it appeared. Even if he were to tell her his side, he doubted she'd understand. Caius however, continued with his damning words. "Nothing was proven. In fact, a few individuals claimed to have done it, but I have my own suspicions. I had very reliable sources at the time."

"Saber?" Eiryn asked, her voice catching in her throat.

Saber's only movement was his red eyes shifting from Caius to Eiryn. "I was only twelve." He said softly. "How was I to kill a master assassin?"

"You were trained for it." Caius pointed out. "Using the very methods Nekros might use. I'm guessing you poisoned him first?"

Refusing to even go there, Saber narrowed eyes. "I could hardly carry the body to dump it in the river now could I?" Saber countered. "Nekros was a big man."

"So you're saying you didn't kill him?" Caius asked, but he already knew the answer to that.

"You don't know everything." Saber told him, his tone thick. "Only what your so called sources told you."

"Enlighten me." Caius sneered, stepped back towards Eiryn. "Enlighten us both."

So this was his wild card? Saber thought darkly, glaring at the spymaster and nursing thoughts of punching his self-righteous look off the old man's face. This must be why he'd remained so indifferent, why the man had treated him with distain all this time, because of stories he'd heard of a time that was so long ago, in another land, in another lifetime the Dark Elf had hoped to leave behind…

"I don't see how it matters." Saber finally said, turning his attention to Eiryn. "I have a long journey ahead of me, and you have training to complete at the mage's guild." Without another word, Saber grabbed his pack in one fluid motion and simply left the small room, slamming the door behind him.

Eiryn was still in shock, unable to comprehend what just happened. The Dunmer was clear in his not wanting her go with him now, and it infuriated her to no end. Glaring at her father, she turned her wrath on him. "You knew this all this time?"

"And you knew of his duty as well?" He retorted, just as angry. "I underestimated that you could keep things from me."

Almost shaking in anger, she took in a deep breath to calm herself. "You wanted to protect me from him?" she said in a calmer voice. "Because you knew of his past?"

"And his future, Eiryn." Her father settled down, taking a seat on the edge of his tiny cot. "Think about it, what he's to accomplish. If he fails he dies… if he succeeds…?"

If he succeeds, becomes the Incarnate…what then? Would he rule Morrowind? But why would they want him to take on this course unless they thought perhaps he _was_ the promised one? Either outcome there was no future for them. "That doesn't change the fact that you had no right-"

"It is my right!" Her father snapped, suddenly angry again. "I'm your father! I'm the master in the guild you are a member of! I do what I have to do to protect the members…and my daughter from what I deem as too dangerous. Why do you think you're being trained with the mages? To help you later, to protect you!"

Moving for the door, she stopped only when her hand touched the latch. "Where are you going?" Her father demanded.

"To the Urshilaku camp." She glared back at him. "Forbid all you want, but I know if he is to succeed, he'll need help. And you're wrong about him."

"You've only known him for a few days, Eiryn." Caius reminded her.

"I know him more than you think I do." She said, knowing he'd catch her meaning. "And even if you're right, that doesn't change the fact, he'll still need help."

"If you leave," Caius dared her, "I will throw you out of the Blades."

Stiffening at his threat, she lifted her chin. "I will save you the trouble. I quit." And shut the door behind her.

Saber felt as though a murky cloud had darkened his world. Even though the day was remarkably sunny and bright, he saw nothing of it as he strode back towards the mages guild to leave for Ald Ruhn. Damn Caius, and damn the Emperor! Oblivion take them all and their plots and schemes!

How did the old man find out so much? Sources, he mentioned. _Most likely his wretched spies!_ They were everywhere in the Empire, like rats. You see one, you know several hundred were hidden in the walls. How much did they think they knew of Nekros? Yes, he was cruel…but at least his victims got respite from his ruthless actions. His apprentice did not have such dispensation.

Every day, and every night there was something new he had to tolerate, a new humiliation, or a preamble to pain. Nekros enjoyed torture, enjoyed what pain did to people. A young boy who had nowhere to go, and was too terrified to dare leave, learned to endure what he could, until he could endure no longer.

Raw anger and fears he'd kept hidden for so long threatened to engulf him, but with the control he mastered for the past decades of his life, he managed to fight his demons back under control. He'd wanted to leave his past in Cyrodil, had very nearly accomplished driving memories so far within he could almost forget. Then something would cause him to remember, and everything flooded back to engulf him.

Nekros enjoyed inflicted pain and torment, and was Caius so damned different? He was thoroughly enjoying himself revealing so much to Eiryn, knowing she'd never want to see him again! Saber growled in his throat, almost shoving a civilian out of his way as he turned the corner near the market bazaar. The look Eiryn had on her face was evident of her thoughts. Horrified…or just horror, revolted that he could murder someone at a tender age of twelve!

Self-loathing swept over him, but so often Saber learned to simply ride the wave until he forced such doubts away. He was a thief now, and damned good thief! Not only had he never joined any of the assassin guilds, he had only killed the one man in cold blood, and that one deserved it. A twinge of guilt rose up, battling with his justifying the killing. And that's what it was. Not murder, no matter what Caius might think! It was a justified execution.

Here in Morrowind, the Morag Tong was the prominent assassin guild, and was even legal. Writs of execution were handed out to assassins as a legal means for the Houses to war against each other. And that is how Saber considered Nekros' death, nothing more than a writ of execution.

_He deserved it…_

Memories flooded his thoughts, of Nekros lying on the floor writhing and choking from the poison slipped into his drink. It was so obviously simple, too simple, that the master assassin would never even suspect. Feryl had poisoned the wine, had even drank from the same cup. By then, he'd already developed a resistance to poison, without Nekros even knowing. When the assassin found breathing growing difficult, and his limbs began to twitch spasmodically, he looked at horror at the elfling backing away to a corner of the room.

Feryl remained huddled in the corner; still nursing bruises and fresh wounds from his master, realizing too late he'd not given the monster enough of the poison for a quick death. Nekros was a big man, a large Imperial with thick fists and heavy boots. The very boots Feryl had been kicked with, the very fists that had struck the boy too often.

Nekros knew who poisoned him, but realized it too late. Then, all he could do was squirm and gasp on the floor as the poison slowly worked through his system.

"Kill you… ungrateful wretch-" Nekros choked, with spittle and blood flowing from his mouth. It seemed hours the man suffered, and all the time the boy stared in horrible fascination, praying and wanting the man to finally expire.

When the body twitched towards him, the boy panicked. Moving from his dark corner that wouldn't keep him safe; Feryl snatched a knife off the kitchen table. It was Nekros' blade, one he usually kept well hidden in a boot or gauntlet, and had even used it on Feryl to terrorize him. Desperate, the boy pounced on the dying man, and grabbed a fistful of hair. This was something Nekros had so often done with him, sprawling the boy on the floor to set a cold bite of steel against his throat, pulling the head back to expose the vulnerable throat.

Except instead of poison, Feryl had been beaten senseless, left to suffer the indignities the man had done to him too often. Now taking control, the elf child gritted teeth. Letting his own disgust and hate steady his nerve, the boy slipped the dagger's edge across his throat.

"Pity is more than you deserve..." He snarled, and knew full well he had to end this man's misery. But was it pity? Was killing him outright truly to end Nekros' suffering or was it raw fear that the man might not die before he tried to kill him later?

When the body finally stopped moving, and blood pooled around his face on the floor, Feryl scrambled back until his back hit the door behind him. _I did it….he's dead…_Panic, fear, anger, and an odd sensation of finality gave him the strength to drag the body to the river and leave him for the fish to consume.

Standing on the docks, the boy felt the sea spray whip hair across his face, felt the blood that covered him cause his tattered shirt to cling to his too-thin frame, and for the first time in his life he knew he was free-

"Saber?" A voice called from behind, pulling him from his reverie and dark thoughts. Not even turning, Saber knew who pursued him. He didn't answer, continuing to head towards the guildhall. Sickened by the memories quickly fading, he didn't want Eiryn to see him like this, so exposed emotionally-

"Saber wait up!"

Not stopping, he heard her running, and finally a tug of his sleeve to bring a halt to his rapid gait. He spun, glaring back at her, angry and panicked that his life had been revealed to her. "Get away from me!" He heard himself growl, and immediately regretted it. Her face was struck with a look of hurt, maybe even fear, and she drew back in shock. He lowered his voice, "Go home, Eiryn." He told her, and turned to continue his way to the marketplace.

"So I'm fired?" her voice cut through the murmur of the crowds around him, slicing into his thoughts. Incredulous, he stopped, slowly turned to look back at her. She still wants to come with me?

"What?"

"Am I fired?" The young Breton had hands on hips, her hazel eyes unblinking as they bore into his. He didn't respond, not knowing what to tell her. He'd assumed she'd not want to have anything to do with him after learning the truth. Anger flashed, and she strode up to give him a shove. "All bad and bold when I had to face Caius, but you ran like a timid Guar. And what? I don't deserve an explanation after all that? You just drop me when things get a little rough for you?"

Stunned at her reaction, he found the woman gave another angry shove.

"Stupid N'wah!" She shouted, letting her anger fuel her words. "Had your fun, so its time for you to go? Is that it?"

A small fist swung up to his face, and immediately he caught it, twisted it back behind her and held her against him. "It's not like that, and you know it!" He growled back. People began to stare at them, and he tugged her into an alley beside the guildhall for privacy. She struggled, trying to kick but was soon pressed up against the adobe wall, and held tight as she continued to vent her wrath.

"Let go of me!" She snarled, trying to kick.

"If I do, you'll hit me." He reasoned, surprised by this flare of temper he hadn't seen yet. It was nice to know she had one, just as long as the fury was directed to anyone else but him. "Now settle down, dammit-"

A foot slammed down onto his, and he hissed from the explosion of pain in the arch of his foot. Hopping back, he avoided a kick. "Stubborn-" He started to say, but her wrist was free, and shot up to punch him in the mouth.

Releasing the woman, he backed up and hoped she didn't pursue. To his relief she only stayed against the wall, seething hate at him. "I am going to the Urshilaku camp if you like it or not."

"Why?" He demanded, touching his mouth and finding she'd split his lip. "You heard Caius-"

"To the farthest reaches of Oblivion with Caius!" She shouted making him tense for another assault. Thankfully she only stood to shake in her anger. "He doesn't have any say over me, and neither do you."

"And you still want to go with me, despite the dangers…or what I've done?" He was stunned.

She moved forward, and he took an involuntary step back until he realized he was backing off a woman smaller than he was. This time, the shove was not as hard, but had enough force to push him up against the opposite wall in the narrow ally. Eiryn's face was pained, the eyes too moist and blinking against emotions she was trying very hard to control.

"Did you kill Nekros?" She stared deeply into his eyes, searching his face as if trying to find the truth from his reaction to her query. "And I want the truth."

He hesitated, suddenly feeling very hardened and distant. "And if I did?"

It was his answer, a backhanded admission to the crime, causing her to draw back a bit.

"How? You were only just a child?"

"I was never a child!" Saber spat, his voice broken and hoarse. "Nekros made sure of that. Caius was correct in his reports of Nekros' cruelty, but you have no idea-" Something caught in his throat, threatened to strangle him to silence. Guilt mixed with anger, and Saber had no idea to where this fury was even directed to; to Nekros? To Caius? To himself? Coughing hard, he swallowed, straightened. "I won't make excuses. You can't possibly know…"

Her hand went up, touched his lips. "No more." She whispered, tears finally spilling over her eyes. "You don't have to tell me." Her fingers drew back and moved gently down his cheek.

Saber saw the sympathy mixed in sorrow, and was nearly overwhelmed. Only a few others ever knew of what happened to Nekros, the truth of it, and hadn't judged him for it. "I did what I had to do-" He said, his voice coming out in a hoarse whisper, "to survive…"

"I believe you." Eiryn told him, cupping his face and wiping his hair from his eyes. It was a gesture that made his chest clench painfully. He felt so sure she'd loathe him when she'd discovered the truth…well not all of it, but what she did know made many recoil in horror. It was frightening, this compassion, this understanding that he was so certain that no one would extend to him. She would never know everything, he'd never speak the words…ever, but somehow he sensed with her, Eiryn didn't care. What's more, she didn't see him as fiend for it.

"Am I still fired?" She murmured, drawing back slightly. "Because I'm out of a job, you know."

Saber found himself blinking too much. "What?"

Her expression turned sheepish, and with a casual swipe of her fingers to move hair out of her eyes, she grinned. "I told Caius I quit."

"You didn't…"

"I did."

"How'd he take that news?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, I told him and left."

Saber felt his face tighten, not sure to smile or frown. She did it. She found her strength in finally telling the old man off. "So I suppose you could use the work?"

Her grin widened. "Only if it pays well."

Saber sighed, shaking off the darkness of their previous conversation. "Well…" He said, "I suppose I'm stuck with you then."

"Seems like it." She said, taking the lead to head towards the guildhall. It was an awkward method to letting him know they were to move beyond this truth of his past. "Are you coming or not?"

Swallowing hard, he shook off the dark cloud of memories and forced an odd smile. "Lead on." He said, wondering what he ever did to deserve this woman in his life?


	8. Ch 8 Ashlands

Eiryn found the trip to Ald Ruhn short and sweet, taking them directly to the guildhall of the mages in the small settlement located in the area known as the Ashlands. Teleportation between the mages' guilds was instantaneous, leaving one with only a slight disorienting sense of feeling unbalanced.

Upon entering the village, the sight always caught her off guard. Even Saber paused to take in the drab and desolate landscape that surrounded the scattering of huts. Here many folk were Dunmer, being the only ones who would actually want to live in such a place, while others were the scattering of adventurers off to find their fortunes in the ruins or tombs in the mountains. Small dome shaped homes best suited to withstand the horrible Blight storms were nestled together, surrounded by a pitiful excuse of a wall.

The storms spat out ash and grit, and its poisoned air from Red Mountain, blanketing the land with soot and death. Eiryn grimaced, nudging the Dark elf with her to follow her to strider port, which would take them to the last settlement before reaching the camp.

"You've been here before?" She asked her companion.

Saber nodded, looking grim and not altogether happy with having to ride on a 'bug' to the next destination, "Even to Maar Gan, but nothing north of there." He said, obediently following her so they could see what supplies they could get before heading out in the wilds. "Are you sure there is no other means to get to Maar Gan?"

"Unless you want to walk." Eiryn replied.

Saber grunted, knowing that the beasts in the Ashlands were often infected with Blight, and by far more dangerous than those of the region he just came from. "I hope you don't mind seeing me sick then."

She snorted a laugh, and could tell his steps seemed slower when they approached the tall strider port. A long ramp led up to the large bug, and the wailing moan that one could feel vibrated against bones. When she glanced back at the Dark Elf she thought he actually appeared pale, the stormy gray hue of his skin now pale and ashen, and there was no denying he wasn't looking forward to the trip at all.

"Keep your mind on other things." She whispered as they approached the caravaner. The man greeted them with a cool welcome, and took the coin for their journey. Without another word, they climbed onto the open carapace, and immediately, she saw her companion bite his lower lip.

"You'll be alright?" She whispered.

"I'm fine." He whispered back through gritted teeth.

It seemed odd he'd react this way considering he was once trained as an assassin. She wanted to ask if it was the height or the simple sway of the Strider's gait that so unsettled him, but Eiryn couldn't help but take note he closed his eyes when the caravaner began to prod the beast's innards. _Ah, the must be it or part of it._

Settling beside him, she snaked her hand into his, feeling his tight grip when the Strider lurched forward. The Dark Elf closed his eyes and tried to think of something else.

"We're here." Eiryn murmured to Saber who had remained auspiciously quiet through the journey, but thankfully hadn't gotten sick. He didn't look well when they stepped off the strider, and by the lengthening shadows, they'd need to find someplace to sleep for the night anyway. "We'll get a bed at the tradehouse."

Saber made a low grunt to acknowledge, but felt as though he needed a hole to crawl into until the nausea passed.

Maar Gan was nothing more than a small huddled mass of dome huts and a large tower also known as one of the many shrines dedicated to Lord Vivec. The weather worn adobe wall surrounded the settlement. It provided little protection, and served nothing in the way of guarding against the ash storms here. Nothing grew here save for the scraggly Trauma roots, being that Red Mountain had sent its destruction too often for anything to withstand a chance.

Eiryn led him to the tradehouse, a hunkered down dome hut that was built with most of its contents underground. Here you could get food, drink, and some company, with a decent sized bed to sleep in and of course the local gossip. Not that Maar Gan had anything of importance.

Saber refused dinner, wanting nothing more than to sleep off his sour stomach. Eiryn refrained from teasing him, and found him a decent bed to curl up into. She wasn't tired, so opted to return to the upstairs public room, and enjoy a few drinks before retiring to bed. The tradehouse was nearly devoid of anyone save the publican behind the bar and two Orc mercenaries who preferred to keep to themselves. It was just as well, she thought to herself. Now alone, she had time to reflect on her new traveling companion.

So Saber was more than what he appeared? This must be what Caius had tried to tell her before. All this time, he knew of the elf's dark past. A flash of seeing a young elf boy, killing a grown man by slitting his throat, disconcerted her. He was only twelve or so at the time!

Even as far as Morrowind, the stories of Nekros would be used to illustrate monstrosity or cruelty. Some of the poisons he'd use worked slowly, sometimes painfully. He'd even leave victims displayed in all their gore to show off his skill with torture. Some speculated it was his method of warning others to never cross him. Others whispered he simply enjoyed inflicting pain on others. Had he been taught the same methods? If that were the case, what horrors had Saber endured as his apprentice?

The thought made compassion well up inside her. When he admitted to her what he'd done, his face was so completely stricken with horror and self-loathing. Eiryn could see the fear and terror of his lost childhood, even guilt. All Caius could see was the murder. True, it was savage, but it also hinted as desperation.

But the young scout could judge him on who he was now; a grown man, albeit a thief, but not an immoral one. There was more to him than met the eyes….even more than what Caius could see.

Once finished with her dinner and a few drinks, she crept back down to the room she shared with Saber and found him sleeping with his back to her. He'd removed clothing, leaving them in a pile on the floor, even his pack left in the middle of the floor. The room that was provided was rather large in comparison to other inns she'd stayed at, but for all the space, the scout had no purpose for the room unless for the bed and someplace to set her pack.

The bed however, was larger than what Saber and her had been using, so grateful for some elbowroom this time, she slid next to the slumbering Dark Elf and snuggled next to him. He mumbled something, rolled over enough to let her know he knew she was there. He never opened his eyes though, still not feeling well.

Resting her hand upon his forehead, Eiryn made sure he wasn't getting sick. This area was rife with disease, and the thought of being sick in the middle of the Ashlands frightened her. His skin was cool to the touch however, and a smile tugged at his mouth. "Go back to sleep." She whispered.

He made a pleasant sound, rolling his head against her shoulder to fall back into a restful slumber.

The next day, his mood and health improved. They ate a quick breakfast and prepared for the first real journey from civilization. Eiryn shifted her cloak across her shoulders to keep her sword arm free, and drew out her long bow to carry in her hand. She'd filled the quiver on her back with as many arrows she could carry without tangling the fletching, and bought both of them scarves to cover their faces should a storm hit.

"Wretched place…" Saber muttered, fussing with the cloth over his mouth and nose. Only his red eyes peeked from beyond the dark cloth, until he yanked the cloth under his chin. "Why do they live here?"

"Who?"

"The locals." He said, following her through the tiny settlement of Maar Gan and shifting his own quiver so it wouldn't jostle against the scabbard also slung on his back. "Ash storms, blight…not to mention the desolation- Why live in such a place?"

"And go where?" Eiryn asked him. "This is their homeland. Once it was as lush as the lands near Balmora, but of course Red Mountain had put a stop to that."

"So why don't they move?"

"Tradition mostly, but you have to bear in mind these are commoners. Where would they go and what would they do if they moved amass into someplace like Balmora?"

"The Grazelands?" He offered.

"I don't think the tribes there would appreciate that." She gave him an odd look. "Most good land has already been claimed. They really don't have anywhere to go."

"How do the tribes deal with it? Doesn't the Urshilaku live in this type of barren landscape? How do they survive?"

Eiryn shrugged. "They maintain guar herds, and gather roots and whatever else they can find. They live as they have always lived. Ashlanders are resistant to change, but enduring of hardship. They are a proud people, and like all Dunmer, stubborn, tenacious-"

"I get your point." He said before she went on and on. He wondered if she also including him in this encompassing description of Dunmer. "I still don't see why they remain in such a dangerous place."

Eiryn stopped, turned on her heel to stare at him. "And if you didn't have to return to prison, and you had the choice, would you go back to the Imperial City?"

The question startled him, nearly rocking him back on his heels. "Well it is my home-" He started to say, then recognized her point. "Its not the same, Eiryn. The Imperial City isn't at all like the Ashlands."

"Its not dangerous?"

"Well…No…maybe…yes, I suppose some might consider-"

"And everyone lives well? You don't have poor, or starving?"

"Well yes, of course some do not do as well as others, every city-"

"And you can look me in the eye and tell me that the Imperial City is not dangerous?" She challenged him, and then added when shifted uneasily from foot to foot. "And you would want to go back there? What for?"

Lifting his hands in defeat, Saber laughed. "Alright, alright, I get your point." His scout turned with a smug look on her face, as he continued to follow her through the dark landscape. "We don't have blight infected beasts ready to kill you at every corner." He muttered behind her back.

Her laughter told him she heard his remark. "No, you have murderers, thieves, and assassins instead."

"We're not all bad, you know." He retorted.

"No…" She agreed with him, being sure he saw the smirk on her face. "Some are even rather fun to have around."

"That we are….that we are."

As they made their way down a shallow valley, Eiryn was good at spotting the dangerous animals, even shooting them dead with a single arrow before the creatures even saw them approach. Saber smiled inwardly, glad to have her with him, and when she began explaining how to recognize the blight-infected beasts from healthy, he found the task daunting. So far, every beast they encountered was infected.

"I knew it was bad, but not this bad." He murmured, watching her inspect another kill of a large Alit, which seemed all mouth and two bipedal feet. She tentatively pried the beast's jaws apart, showing him the abundant amount of teeth and of thick saliva. The hide was thick, scaly, and the large maw could easily kill a full-grown man in one bite. They stood rather squat, only about three feet high, but the massive head carried rows of razor sharp, and poisonous teeth.

"Alits have a unique toxin to incapacitate their victims." She told him, using a short dagger to prod some of the sharp fangs. "That way they can feed on their prey." Her hand moved to draw back the lid of its dead eye to show the red rim and mucus oozing from a tear ducts. "Blight."

Saber grimaced, wondering what the Blight must be like for humans. He couldn't tell what he looked like the one time he caught Ash Woe, but didn't want that experience repeated to find out. "But not all Blight Diseases are the same are they?"

"Did you notice how this thing swayed before I shot it?" She asked him, wiping her blade on its hide. "All Blight infected animals will move differently, sometimes appearing drunk. They sway, or they seem clumsy."

"And what if we catch Blight?" He asked, suddenly worried what he'd do in the middle of nowhere with Eiryn sick with such deadly illness.

"We have the scrolls and potions." The scout told him, moving onward. "Be sure to tell me if you feel at all sick."

"You as well." He responded, eyeing the carcass with disgust.

Later that day, Saber found himself feeling ever more grateful having Eiryn by his side. She was amazing in her skill as a scout. Time and time again, she'd explain a root sticking out of the ground, or a fungus off a tree and all the properties one could use to make a potion from this or that. She also bore a remarkable talent for avoiding the Blight beasts, and keeping her sense of direction in the gloomy landscape. Everything seemed the same to him, the same dismal ridges of mountains to either side, the rocky crags that might hide a vicious beast, even the same dark layer of ash that covered everything from rocks to the roots trying to grow.

Eiryn however, moved with confidence, knowing exactly which way to go, how to avoid trouble, and even led him through a shortcut. Atop a high ridge however, she dropped into a crouch, motioning with her hand to keep low and remain silent.

"What is it?" Saber whispered, as he crept up to her side, seeing a group of men below the hill around a campfire. Smugglers? No, for they had nothing of value with them. The handful of men were mostly Nords, dressed in a mix-match of light and heavy armor, sharing what appeared to be some of their Nordic drink.

He looked at Eiryn, "Bandits?" He mouthed.

She shrugged, "Or adventurers. Why they'd be out here is beyond me."

"Shall we avoid them?" He whispered back.

Eiryn looked at him sharply. "Or what, fight them?"

He snickered, "There's only ten of them."

_Only ten of them?_ The young woman considered the thief might be insane, or perhaps good enough with that sword on his back to take on so many opponents. He almost seemed to want to fight! But why fight when it's easier to avoid them? She shook her head, and was surprised to see his disappointment. He was actually conferring to her! This was a first. Most men she'd led into these lands were very quick in telling her what they wanted and expected, but Saber didn't seem to mind at all to put his trust in her judgment.

Motioning for him to move around, and to remain quiet, the stealthy thief moved cat-like just below the ridge so they would not be detected. "Most likely we'll just fight them later if they are bandits." He whispered to her as they found some distance from the bandits.

He might be right, but for now, they'd avoid them. She could breath easier once they crested the next ridge, and she knew they'd come into the Urshilaku territory soon. "Do you know much of tribal customs?" She asked him as they opted to rest on some rocks before finishing their journey.

He handed her a bottle of water, looking dusty. "I've been told of their gift-giving customs." He said. 'I'm also aware of their challenges, and their general dislike to all foreigners."

Eiryn paused in her drinking. Saber knew more than she gave him credit for. He seemed to have some study before entering into this region. "Their view on foreigners even includes me."

His face pinched in confusion. "You? But weren't you born in Morrowind?"

"I'm not born Dunmer. I'm Breton, and even then, I'm only half." She explained with a grimace. "You're lucky you're a Dark Elf, but you'll still obviously N'wah with that accent."

Saber grew very still. "You're only half?"

Nodding, she spoke without thinking. "Half Breton, Half-Imperial-" Then realized her slip up, or more importantly how Saber seemed to figuring out something. Glancing at his face, she wondered if he made the connection of her and the spymaster who was also Imperial, and by the unblinking assessment he was giving her, thoughts were definitely mulling about his head. "I suppose that's why magic doesn't come so easily to me."

Saber had indeed considered her words. Now things made more sense. "He's your father." He stated, feeling stupid to ever assume they might have been a couple.

She swallowed hard. "You can't tell anyone." Eiryn found her mind reeling, how careful her entire life she'd been with keeping this secret and how important it was to remain secret. Caius often lectured her as a young woman how his enemies could use her against him, how he had to always maintain he never had a family or perhaps lose them to other spies or enemies he'd made in his life.

Saber frowned. "Why does it matter?" He suddenly now understood the man's concern for her, why he wanted to protect her, why he didn't want a thief, a suspected murderer to have anything to do with his daughter.

Eiryn took in a deep breath. "Because Caius has enemies. They might use me to get to him, to get secrets of the Emperor-" She felt his fingers touch her lips, and an odd smile on his mouth.

"Enough." He murmured, taking the bottle water back to throw back a swig. "I don't know anything." He said, handing it back. "He's just a Skooma junkie. Who am I to judge, right? Ready to go?"

Eiryn knew well enough his meaning, dismissing Caius as a 'sugar tooth' like anyone else in Balmora might. Her secret was safe with him. "We're almost there." She said with a smile, leading him towards some low hills. "The camp if just over that ridge."

"That's it?" Saber voiced some doubt as they paused atop a ridge over looking the tiny camp. The meager group of hide-covered tents was huddled about a water source, squat domes of the same grim color indicated that they tents were either covered in ash, or simply appeared to look that way in the hopes of camouflage.

"What did you expect?" Eiryn asked, moving down the hill to greet the tribesman closest to them.

"Not this…" Saber responded too softly for her to hear. He had expected more of them, a larger force, of several families bound together by traditions hundreds of years old. Instead, the Urshilaku camp was comprised of a few tents, a few close-knit families, and a paltry amount of goods.

When seeing some of the members of the tribes, they bore the tribal facial tattoos and even scarring that marked their rank and clan. Some bore feathers or braids wrapped in bright cloth as adornment, as well as clothes being of hide but painted to a bright hue against the stark landscape they called home.

Eiryn paused before addressing one of the tribesmen, turning to Saber. "You won't be able to speak to the Ashkhan or the wisewoman until you get permission-"

"I know." Saber smiled, waving her back to handle the affairs himself. This was his quest after all.

The warrior raised an eyebrow in surprise, remaining a cool indifference to seeing strangers approach the circle of tents. "What do you want, outlander?" he spoke with an accent; his posture stiff and ready to fight.

Giving a polite bow, Saber explained on no uncertain terms his purpose for being there, sharing what he knew of the Neveravine prophecies and to be tested by the wisewoman.

The man didn't even flinch. "You? An outlander?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Why should you even be trusted, n'wah?"

Saber gave Eiryn a quick glance before speaking of things he had obviously learned before even meeting her. He shared knowledge of the prophecy, of the Sixth House. "I may not be trusted, but unless given a chance to prove myself, then we may never know." He told the man.

"Go speak with our Gulakhan, the Ashkhan's champion. If you can convince him, you can gain permission to speak to our leaders." With that the man simply turned and ignored them both.

Saber shrugged, heading towards the larger tent where four yurts were lined around a campfire. Here the sound of wooden chimes clinked in the slight breeze, and ornate rugs brought color to the otherwise dreary region.

"Stay here…" Saber murmured to her. "I hope this won't take long."

Eiryn made herself comfortable outside the circle of tents by sitting cross-legged on the ground and taking a breather from their long journey. She watched curiously the tribes people who cast distrustful looks her way, even the children acting ominously aloof.

These were the Ashlander Dunmer, Dark Elven nomads who drove their guar herds through their harsh and unforgiving land. Rigid in their ancestral beliefs, the tribes were often driven into the poorer harshest regions of Morrowind to squeeze out a meager life in the shadow of Red Mountain. They were a hardy people, able to withstand hardship, and had lived this way for centuries.

Thought Eiryn would always be seen an n'wah to them, a foreigner despite being born in the very same land, she understood their distrust. With the settlement of the Empire, and the armistice Lord Vivec had with the Emperor, didn't serve these proud people. Then with the trouble of Dagoth Ur, the

Ashlanders were pretty well left to fend for themselves against the Blight, the corpus beasts, and ash storms. No wonder they needed the Neveravine to save them.

Before long, Saber exited the tent and gave her a smile indicating meeting with this Gulakhan went well. "Not quite done yet." He told her, motioning her to remain a bit longer before he disappeared into another tent.

The customs of the tribes was tedious when it came to speaking to any of their members. They followed a strict hierarchy, and one never could just go up to speak to the leaders. Visitors were expected to gain the permission through the ranks of the tribal people first. The Ashkhan and wisewoman of the tribe being the highest in rank.

Eiryn realized something made her bones itch. It was an odd sensation but one she recognized as her sense when a storm was about to start. She looked to the southeast, noticing the gathering gloom of an approaching ash storm. Grimacing, she tucked her scarf around her head in preparation for what was to come. The village members all but disappeared into their tents as well, already knowing the storm was at hand.

Saber arrived once more, motioning for her to follow him to another tent. Her first thought was he actually talked his way into speaking to the wisewoman, but the tent they entered was empty, and not bearing the brilliant rug at the doorstop as the wisewoman's yurt would bear.

"We're staying?" She asked, pulling her scarf off when they were safely inside the small tent. It smelled of hide and dirt, and the fire pit filled with ash.

"Did you speak to the wisewoman already?"

Saber shook his head, then shook out his hair of dust. "The Ashkhan wants me to first be initiated into the tribe."

"What?" Eiryn was stunned. "Just to speak to the wisewoman?"

He chuckled at her surprise. "He wants me to prove myself, and this initiation is considered a _Harrowing_, a rite of passage of sorts."


	9. Ch 9 Harrowing

"A harrowing?" Eiryn asked, not understanding what that meant, but it didn't sound good. Saber shook out his cloak before sitting down on the pallet across from hers. They were given the tent to shelter from the storm outside, to rest and take respite.

"It's a rite of passage." The Dunmer explained, removing boots and the sword harness getting ready to settle down for the night. "They want me to go to an ancestral tomb and retrieve a relic. It sounds simple enough."

"Rites of passage are never simple. They want it to be a challenge." She scowled, thinking he wasn't taking any of this seriously enough. Rites of passage also merited a certain level of danger, a threat to life. Something called a harrowing might be even more challenging than a simple initiation. She moved closer, plopping down to sit cross-legged beside him, and wondered why he was making light of this. "And you're taking me with you, right?"

He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "I don't think they want me to bring anyone with me on this venture."

Eiryn knew he was right. Such initiations required the victim to take on the test alone, to prove themselves. "What if you don't come back?"

"Why wouldn't I come back?" He feigned insult and surprise.

"What if you get hurt? Or sick?" She persisted.

He rolled his eyes. "I think that's why it's a challenge, don't you think?"

Huffing in frustration, she folded arms in front of her. "They don't have to know I'm going. I can meet you just over the hill-"

"Eiryn…" he warned. He began wiping off his daggers kept in his belt, checking for dirt or oil marring the steel. "You're not going."

"So I just stay here and wait?"

"That's the general idea."

Now growling, she pounded a fist against his pack sitting next to him on the ground, and only proved to smash knuckles against something hard within. What did he keep in that thing anyway? She was supposed to be his scout. Surely that meant to follow him at least to the entrance of the burial site? "And how long is this going to take?"

"Three days." He said without looking up, knowing the wait was probably going to drive her crazy. "You wait no more or no less than three days. If I don't come back then, you go home."

"Because you'd be dead." She lowered her chin, focusing her attention to the firepit in the center of the tent.

"Because I'd probably be dead." Saber agreed quietly, too calm in light of what he was about to do.

Tapping fingers against her boots, Eiryn considered his words. "Don't go."

He stopped what he was doing, turning slowly to stare at her incredulously. "Don't go? I have to."

"No you don't."

He frowned. "What sort of Incarnate would that make me be?"

"But you're not the Incarnate-"

"Not yet." Saber felt her concern was unfounded. Then again, she'd never seen him test his skills had she? For all she knew, he was some misbegotten thief who rather charm his way out of trouble than face it head on. He reached up to brush her cheek with a finger, suddenly finding himself drawn to her through this show of concern for his well being.

"Not ever!" She exclaimed, slapping his hands away. "You know damned well how likely that is."

"Do I?" He snapped, matching her temper and feeling more than annoyed with her lack of faith in him. "And how can you be so damned certain I am not?"

His words shocked her. Did he actually believe he could be Saint Neverar reborn? Was he soulsick? "I thought you weren't a hero."

"I don't have to be a hero to fulfill a harrowing." He muttered, turning back to the chore of checking his weapons. "I don't even have to be an Incarnate to accomplish this. As for whether I am Incarnate or not, I see it makes little difference. Hadn't you told me you thought I was up for the task regardless?"

Ah, so he'll throw my words back in my face? Eiryn gritted teeth. "Fine. You end up lost or wounded and dying in the dark, don't complain to me." She muttered in anger, "And it's very likely that will happen you know. Warriors better than you have died alone and lost in the Ashlands."

He chuckled despite himself. "Better than me, eh? I'll keep that in mind."

"Don't condescend to me." She retorted, growing restless by the very casual demander he was showing her now. "I don't think you're taking any of this seriously."

Saber contended a sigh. "It's just an errand to retrieve a bow off a corpse. Now does that sound so hard?"

"Burial sites tend to be filled with the undead." She told him, "You know, skeletons, ancestral ghosts, perhaps corpus beasts?" At least he had the good sense to grimace at mention of those, but the determined set of his chin told he remained undeterred. "Why do you suppose they call it a harrowing?"

He did laugh now. "You didn't even know what a harrowing was until I told you!" At her growl of indignation, he softened his voice. "Eiryn, I _am_ taking this seriously. Somehow I don't think you take _me_ seriously."

Cheeks flushed pink as Eiryn considered his words. "Its hard to take someone seriously when they are always up to mischief!" She said, angered by his lack of gravity.

He set aside his weapons, having the odd feeling she was simply not going to let the topic go. He admired the tenacity, but found her lack of faith in him a bit troubling. Sighing, he turned to cup her chin with one hand and gave her a soft smile. "But it's my mischief that lends to my charm." He told her, leaning over to kiss her.

Pulling back from his affection, Eiryn knew her words had no affect on him. He was going and leaving without her, damn him! "Does charm and using harsh words work against corpus beasts?"

Ah, she is determined to remain chaste on this trip, Saber thought with disappointment. He wasn't certain she was serious when she gave him the stipulation that they not sleep together, but he had to respect this decision. Dropping pretense, he let her go, and began undressing to prepare for a good night's sleep. In the morning, he'd start this trip in finding the burial chamber, _without her_, and go from there.

Eiryn remained stoic, sitting with cross legs, crossed arms, and a tight mouth. If she believed pouting was going to have him change his mind, she was wrong. "You're not going." Was all he said when she kept staring at him expecting some response. Opting to leave trousers on lest someone of the tribe interrupt them, he settled on the bedroll, pointedly turning his back to her to sleep.

After a few long minutes, he finally heard her puff a sigh again, settling on the bedroll next to him, and knew her restlessness was from her still being angry. Several times he meant to speak to her, trying to soften the blow to her ego, even that he had in fact all the faith he'd need her beside him. However, the young woman might take it as an opportunity to simply argue further that he should take her, unknowing by the tribe, which he wasn't about to risk.

The tension became almost tangible as he felt her shift again, and blow of a breath of air. "Are you going to do that all night?" He asked without turning.

"Do what?"

"Wiggling and sighing."

Another exasperated sigh, this time at him. "I can't sleep." She muttered, shifting again, this time a quick yank of covers nearly took all from his side of the bedroll.

"Shall I get you some warm milk?" He asked.

"Warm milk?"

"To help you sleep." Did she not hear his sarcasm?

"Warm milk helps you sleep?" She asked.

Ah yes, here in Morrowind they only had milk from guars, and perhaps didn't carry the same properties as from the cattle in Cyrodil. If she kept this up, he'd never get enough rest to tackle the day ahead. "How about a back rub?"

Her silence prompted him to roll over to see if she was still awake. She was, biting her lower lip in consideration of his offer. Hair was now undone, laying in a thick mane around her head. She looked young, and oddly sullen. He nearly laughed, but only managed a muffled snort. Did she think he was trying to coerce her? Well, perhaps he was to a certain extent. "Or you could give me one…that might help settle you down."

A sidelong glance appeared bland. "I'm not sleeping with you."  
"Obviously." He retorted. "I'm not asleep now am I?"

"You know what I mean."

"Unfortunately I do." Saber rolled back, yanking covers to claim what was rightfully his. "I'm not _sleeping_ with you either."

Much to his surprise, she actually laughed at his mutterings. A sharp yank, stole back a fair share of the blanket, also serving to roll him on his back again. "If you promise not to molest me, you can give me a backrub."

Well at least now her mood was improving. He smiled wickedly. "Can I? Shall I be so honored?" She rolled to her stomach, folding arms under her chin. Did he see a smug grin on her face now? Moving to straddle across her hips, he paused to take note she wasn't removing any of her clothing. How was he to give a proper back rub with her fully clothed? "Take off your shirt."

"What?"

"You want a backrub, so take off your shirt.' He told her, and then pretended to be exasperated with her look of surprise. "Oh Azura's Light, I promise I won't accost you."

Giving him a distrustful look, she reluctantly pulled off her tunic, lying back on her stomach to keep herself covered. "Just keep your hands on the back." She warned.

He ran palms down her smooth back, almost tingling throughout his body in response of being so close to her, so _intimate_ with her. Azura's Light indeed, he mused. How does this woman affect me so?

"Yes indeed…" He sighed, hoping she couldn't tell his response to her. His hands pressed along her spine. "You are tense."

Eiryn sighed at his touch, rolling her head to one side, releasing a soft grunt. "A little lower please."

He pressed on the lower spine, hearing an audible crack as vertebra shifted and a satisfying moan erupt from the woman. "Always eager to please." He teased, running palms up and down, then shifting to knead the muscles to either side. "Anything to get you to sleep and stop stealing the covers."

She giggled softly, looking heavy-eyed and more relaxed.

He brushed her long hair off her neck to work near the shoulders, enjoying the lovely feel of silken skin under his calloused hands, and the marvelous toning of the woman beneath him. Most other women he had in bed, had been soft and well curved. This lively one appealed to his senses of freedom loving and adventure. By the Nine Divines, he was glad he'd brought her along!

Several moments passed as he continued to work muscles gone stiff from their long trek through the Ashlands. Glorious sounds of her moaning and grunting made very fiber of his being grown raw with desire. Now he wasn't so sure if he'd get any sleep, feeling the tent a bit too warm, and his desire almost painful.

"Did you want a backrub too?" Eiryn suddenly offered him. She might as well have asked if he was a fool as well.

"My turn, already?" He grinned. Did she even know how? Not that it mattered. He would enjoy some affection before sleep came to him. Moving to lie on the bed, Eiryn didn't seem to care of modesty, or she wore no shirt, not that he could admire her in his position. Face down, he felt her straddle across his lower back and her smaller hands began to prod and knead along his shoulders much as he'd done to her. The girl learns fast! He folded arms under his chin, soon lost to her administrations.

After a soft moan escaped him, Saber found he was feeling quite relaxed. Strong fingers ran up his spine, almost tickling, and then trailed back down. His hair was brushed off shoulders, and much to his surprise, Eiryn trailed a finger along the curve of his pointed ear. If anything the woman must have learned from the few times they'd slept together was the awesome delight such affection produced in a an elf. He nearly shuddered. Eiryn laughed softly, stopping the delicate touch to prefer to rub shoulders instead.

"Don't do that…" Saber moaned, realizing too late he was aroused and feeling the tent was definitely too hot. Cursed woman, what was she thinking? Was this to torture him? Did she plan some malicious method of hers to get him back, or worse, to try to convince him to take her to the tomb? The thought made him catch his breath, wondering if he could possibly win against such brutality-

"Stop what?" She whispered against the same ear. "This?" This time her tongue played with the edge of his ear, and Saber flinched from the personal contact, burying his head in the wadded up shirt he was using as a pillow. He was very much aware of her soft flesh pressed against his back, with the fact she wore no shirt.

"For pity's sake woman!" He exclaimed, "If you wish to remain chaste when traveling me, would be so kind as to not torment me so?"

Another light laugh, and Saber was convinced the Breton was now mocking him. Ah, a game then, to play and tease until he would give in. The mouth returned to tease along his ear, this time with lips ever so gently nibbling along the edge until he groaned. And he had to admit; the torture was delightful, providing she would not stop.

He felt the tickle of her hair falling over his face, the heat of her flesh against his. "You're not going to stop are you?" He grunted, his voice gone husky with mounting desire.

Not replying, she ran her hand under his face to turn his head enough for her lips to reach his brow, kissing tenderly then moving delicate kisses along to his cheek. Eventually she shifted her weight, allowing him to roll to his back, and began teasing his mouth with hers, barely touching lips until he was nearly gasped for breath.

"I thought you said-" Saber began, but interrupted with her mouth growing more urgent. Eiryn cupped his face in her hands, fingers moving to trail along either side of his face, and he never felt such gentle affection from a partner before. When she drew back, the face was flush, the eyes dilated in the darkness of the cramped quarters. Something had changed in her face, the expression no longer smiling but earnest, almost sad. "What is it?" He asked, concerned what was on her mind.

Eiryn forced an insincere smile. "I just thought I might miss you if something happened to you." She told him, looking down.

Struck hard by her words, Saber was glad he was lying down. His chest clenched at realizing she was trying to tell him how fond she'd grown of him. He smiled, reached up to brush hair that threatened to shroud her beautiful face. Yes…he'd miss her too. "Nothing will happen." He told her, trying to convince them both.

Not wishing to hear any more of it, she shut him up with a fierce kiss. Drawing her closer, he kissed her with equal passion, drowning himself in her affection, and wanting to calm her fears.

He wondered what happened to her stipulations, but soon all thoughts were blasted away by her demanding kiss and she left the elf no doubt what she wanted of him now. Well, he thought, might as well give in to the inevitable…

As she lay half asleep in his arms some time later, she stroked the smooth skin of his chest where she could feel the beating of his heart. The skin of her hand was so pale against his stormy gray, and her fingers smaller than his long graceful ones. _So very different_…she mused.

His breathing was slow and even, his eyes closed. He appeared content in his sleep, uncaring to what the next day will bring. She admired the fine lines of his cheeks, the graceful plane of his jaw. There was something oddly feminine to some of his features, due to his elven blood. He could see centuries of life, while she'd be lucky to see only one. The thought suddenly occurred to her she didn't even know how old he was. He could already be a century old.

Looking for signs of age, she found none. For all appearance he seemed no older than she was. Skin was smooth, uncreased by age, and hair was black as a raven's wing, as was lashes and brows. Eiryn knew well enough that still meant nothing. In Morrowind, the homeland of the Dark Elves, a Dunmer wasn't considered out of puberty until near thirty. They couldn't marry or even hold property until then. Commoners could see ages of 150 or so, while some of the Televani Dunmer were well over 1000, but they used magic to enhance their age.

Propping her head on a folded arm, Eiryn wondering what it was about him that fascinated her so. She wasn't sure. His humor? His boyish charms? His being exotic? Was she even as shallow as to simply find him irresistible or a skillful lover?

He was handsome all right, she thought, ever so lightly trailing fingers along his cheek, down his jaw, to his full lips. Nonetheless, handsome or not, he was still pleasing. The self-assured nature, the confidence he exuded was very likable, and more, gave her hope he might survive this harrowing. Stirring ever so slightly, he sighed in his sleep, settled back with his head inclined towards hers.

_What am I going to do without you?_ Considering following him despite his conditions, she settled down beside him, wanting to use her very will to keep him there.

The next morning, Eiryn woke to find herself alone in the bedroll. The blankets had been tucked around her, and her things neatly set aside near the door of the tent. It didn't take long to realize Saber had already left, his bow gone as well as sword.

Damn him! She cursed, rushing to fumble clothes back on and rush out into the late morning. The day was grim, a heavy fog over the desolate landscape made every direction look the same. Eiryn's heart sank. Everything looked the same in all directions. The thief was nowhere to be seen.

He did this on purpose! He deliberately left me in the early hours of morning or even in the middle of the night! Curse him!

Running up to one of the tribesmen, she was fumbling with her belt as she hurried to go. "Where is this tomb?" She asked in a breath.

The man narrowed eyes, not at all pleased with her tone. "He is to go alone, outlander." He sneered, "You will not go with him."

_Oh yes I will…_She glared back. "Which direction?" The man turned and moved away from her.

Desperate, the scout decided to use her tracking skills and soon found evidence of his tracks leading to the south. It appeared as though he tried to brush his tracks away as well. Clever, but not clever enough. She could still tell the imprint and direction now. As she started forward, a voice caught her attention.

"You dishonor him." A woman's accented voice spoke softly. Eiryn turned to find the tribe's wisewoman standing behind her, staring those red eyes into her soul. She was a tiny woman, reminded her of a bird. Her small frame was weathered from the harsh life she lived, as well as age, and her silver hair was tied back to either side of her face in braids indicating her rank and clan. "He is to prove himself, and you have no faith. How are we to trust either of you?"

A twinge of shame made her cheeks hot, and the young scout looked down at the ground. "He might need my help." Her voice was small, and her need to follow Saber into danger was almost overwhelming.

The wisewoman stepped forward, the creases of age in her face deepening when she smiled. "You can help him by being patient." She said softly, "Now come. We will talk, you and I, over some tea."

Surprised by this unexpected hospitality, Eiryn felt compelled to follow. Instead however, she looked back to the rising sun and the tracks leading to the south. For all she knew, Saber could already be dead-

"Come along, child." The wisewoman called after her. "There is nothing for you to do now."

Resigned, Eiryn followed her back to her yurt, only now understanding the honor the woman gave her by the invitation.

Saber didn't particularly hate caves or dark enclosed in spaces, but tombs were another matter. Crouched behind some rocks, he sensed the presence of the undead; even smell their cold whiff of death upon them as he readying a spell.

He knew he could take on a skeleton, even the ancestral ghosts now that his sword had been imbued with magick from the mages in Balmora. They were immune to normal blades, his could even trap their souls if need be, but this venture was meant to only retrieve a bow. The tribe honored these spirits, and therefore he'd have to avoid destroying them as best he could.

The worst thing about this quest was he felt obligated to keep his sticky fingers to himself, and not touch any of the lovely weapons and other artifacts that were upon the various dead here in the tomb. This went against his very nature, he reasoned. Several items were well worth the trip if he could snatch them off a corpse to sell later.

_That's not why you're here…_ a voice rasped behind him.

"Shut up…" Saber whispered back. His own ancestral ghost had been summoned long enough to distract a series of Blight infected rats he encountered and put out of their misery. He rarely summoned Enril due to the over talkative ghost proved more of a nuisance than any help, but all Saber needed this time was a distraction. And Enril was very good at distracting.

_Of all the spirit guides a Dark Elf could have, I had to be stuck with him! _Saber glared back at the apparition, knowing he couldn't retaliate to the ghost's reprimanding nature without actually trapping his soul like any other ghost. Enril enjoyed lecturing, chiding the thief for his choice of profession, even other areas of his life, and particularly the new topic of Eiryn.

_You should've brought her along…_ Enril rasped.

"I can't believe you were actually a warrior." Saber muttered through clenched teeth. Did the man never shut up when he was alive? "This is my Harrowing." Saber told him. "Sat Matuul was very clear that I had to do this alone."

_But I'm here, aren't I?_ Enril hissed with a voice that sounded ancient. _Do you think you are allowed to summon your ancestors to help?_

"You tell me." Saber growled, "You were a warrior of a tribe. Didn't you have to go thru a Harrowing?"

_A Harrowing to be accepted in a tribe_, Enril rasped. _I was already an honored warrior._

"Honored? I find that hard to believe" Saber said, peeking over the rock to see if the three skeletons down the tunnel had heard their conversation. Lucky for him, the undead were not very good at hearing. Enril was certainly proof of that. "But you must've gone thru an initiation?"

_I did,_ Enril told him, _when I was a boy._

The ghost was being flippant. All Dark Elves had the ability to summon their spirit, after they reached puberty. For Saber, by the time he discovered Enril, he was well past that age, and had lost some control over the so-called guide. Gritted teeth, Saber wondered why the ghost hadn't left for the 'Other' plane yet, unless he simply enjoyed 'harrowing' Saber.

Enril was just as unhappy having his charge be a thief, and learning of the dark past. He was horrified to discover the boy he was to guide had been trained as an assassin, and already made his first kill, a dishonorable one at that. At every opportunity, he reminded Feryl of this, never calling him by any other name. It was his first name, a given name, and to Enril, had to respected. He couldn't' understand that in Old Common it was far from being anything remotely honorable.

There was also the informative years lost to which Enril could've been helpful to the boy growing up amid foreigners, teaching him the Dunmer ways. But those years were lost, and they were both stuck together.

"Don't you have someplace else to go?" Saber asked, still waiting for the spirit to diminish before continuing on. "You're not going to be much help here now."

The specter hovered in the dark tunnel, almost flaring in anger at the thief. _I'd be more powerful if you'd summon me more often_. He reminded him, had always reminded him, and always will.

"Learn to keep quiet and I just might, but for now…can't you just leave?" Saber was of course lying, and Enril well knew it. Linked to the Dunmer's heart and soul, the ghost knew the boy thought he talked too much, complained too much, and certainly shut him off quick enough when he suggested he take Eiryn as a wife.

_I still say you need to make an honorable woman of her_, Enril told him, refusing to leave until he could no longer maintain his form. It was so rare he came to this plane of existence, rarer still he could try to instill some form of values into the boy.

"She's honorable enough for us both, and I already told you why I can't marry her." Saber bared teeth, gripping his sword with the dark thought that perhaps as a trapped soul this ghost might be more useful.

_Children, although important, do not make a marriage, boy._ Enril chided him. _And_ _you haven't told her you cant have any, have you?_

They both knew he hadn't. Saber settled back against the stone, knowing with disgust he was stuck here until the ghost dissipated. Sighing, he drew up knees to his chest to make himself comfortable. "Eiryn is not a fool, Enril." Saber told him, feeling as though he'd already explained this enough times. "She must know by now we can't even think in that direction in light of what I have to do."

The ghost made some rude noise. _Yet you use her_-

"I most certainly am not!" Saber huffed, his temper flaring. "And well you know this!"

_Forgive me_…Enril whispered, _Yes, you are right. You are not using her. But I can sense your feelings for her, and yet you do not do the honorable thing. _

"The honorable thing…you mean marry her?" Saber spat.

_Or let her go_, Enril concluded. _She has a right to a family of her own one day_.

Saber scowled, fingering the pommel of his sword once more. He was beginning to hate this spirit, feeling more of a curse than anything else. The gods must be laughing at putting us together like this. Enril so enjoys torturing me with his rhetoric-

A pang of guilt struggling against his selfish wants. Deep inside him, he knew Enril was right. He had to tell Eiryn the truth, and the opportunity to decide for herself, she deserved that much. The thought however, of her making the choice of leaving him made his chest constrict painfully. Then again, she hadn't left when she found out about Nekros did she?

_She doesn't know everything about Nekros though,_ Enril pointed out, reading his thoughts. _Nor the demons you carry_-

A well of seething rage rose up, and Saber finally got to his feet with sword in hand. "Speak once more of that, and I will end this topic of conversation permanently-" He lifted his blade, taking petty enjoyment when the spirit back off, even fading from the obvious threat.

_Forgive me..._Enril rasped.

Wanting to lash out, Saber opted to take out his frustration to the undead behind him. They had since been alerted to his presence when he stood up, but at least now he had the force of his anger to fuel the fight. As he swung his blade to hit against bone, a swift kick knocked another skeleton to crash into pieces. Nothing like good old-fashioned hate to bring a fight to terms.

Eiryn had found Nibani the wisewoman to be one of the most cordial of the Ashlander people she ever met. The woman bore a proud yet gentle manner, incredibly understanding of others, almost to the point of possibly reading their minds.

"I do not read minds." Nibani laughed when Eiryn asked her about it. "For many, what they think and feel is obvious on their face." She was having the n'wah help prepare herbs for potions, keeping her busy until Saber returned, and keeping her mind occupied on other things. "You for instance, have very expressive eyes, but you show emotion, not thoughts."

The young scout turned her attention back to pulling leaves off the Bittergreen plant. Its properties could make potions to render one invisible, or to restore lost attributes. It was also used in some poisons. The tough stalk smelled sour, and the sap was sticky. "Is that why you're keeping me busy?"

Nibani nodded slowly. "Work is the best cure for what ails a longing heart."

"How long do you think he'll be gone?" Eiryn asked her, remembering Saber's words on waiting three days.

"Depends on what trouble he'll face. Some go for only a day, others a week." Nibani explained. She was scraping the innards out of large bugs called Shaulk beetles, often using the resins in potions, or crafting materials.

"He told me to wait three days." Eiryn murmured, knowing she'd wait the week if she had to.

"That sounds a reasonable time." Nibani agreed.

"And what if he doesn't come back?" This time her question was more to herself than to the wisewoman, but her insight might provide her some comfort.

The woman stopped what she was doing, appraising her new assistant with consideration. "You endure, child. But I think you are asking permission to find him?" Eiryn blushed, as the woman smiled knowingly. "After three days, you can go see if you can find him. No one will stop you. I will even guide you to the tomb if you wish." She returned to her chore. "Men do not understand the strength of woman, nor the power of our hearts."

"No, they don't." Eiryn agreed, liking this woman immensely.


	10. Ch 10 Tombraiding

Resting in a niche within a large cavern, Saber had made certain the area was safe from the deceased before taking a rest. The burial tomb was bigger than what he expected, with a maze of tunnels snaking through various other chambers filled with the dead, both animated as well as inanimate.

This particular chamber was impressive by any standards, with a vast outcropping of cascading rocks with water pouring down the fissures into various waterfalls and pools. In some niches above him, mummies of the Urshilaku tribe kept their silent vigil, tucked into alcoves amid the waterfalls, and were thankfully still.

He'd found a few hapless adventurers in the previous caves, who had hoped to raid the tombs without preparing, or perhaps not having the experience, to deal with the hordes of the undead. Their bodies now joined the others in silence sleep, but now picked clean of anything of value.

Saber had taken a short time to wash up, refreshing himself from the grave dust that filled his nostrils, and the filth from several days of traveling the Ashlands. Resting against the wall, water dripped down his face onto damp clothes. Refusing to actually lie down in the place, he opted to get a breather, sip a potion to renew his strength, and then continue. However, he found a few items holding some interest to him, and wanted to inspect the valuables.

Using night vision to inspect a ring he found on one of the corpses, the stone was a petite opal with inner fires. At least he was turning some profit now, and with this ring, he sensed the slight tingle of magic emanating from the smooth white stone, and the silver band having glyphs worked into the metal.

He couldn't guess what magic is held, but once back in civilization he could have one of the mages examine it closer. Another item was a scroll he recognized as summoning skeleton minions. This would help should he find himself outnumbered, though casting spells whilst in combat was something he didn't often do. There was also a handy lockpick on one corpse, and potion of cure poison on another. Not riches, but nonetheless handy if he needed them, or sell them for revenue. Briefly he considered climbing the rocky waterfall since a few enticing flashes of riches above, but he refrained the urge, not wishing to waken any angry spirits here.

The opal ring barely fit a pinky, but he remembered Eiryn's tiny hands, and considered if she might want it. The thought caused a smile curl his lips. I must be getting old, thinking of giving away baubles just for the fun of it. He was also glad Enril wasn't around to add pressure to use the ring as a promise of marriage.

Thankfully the spirit had finally dissipated to the nether regions, and left Saber alone with his thoughts. Oh the ghost would still watch from afar, would still know what was in his heart, but at least Saber didn't have to hear his opinion on the matter.

_She doesn't know everything about Nekros…_Enril's words haunted him, stinging him with truth. If she knew…would she still remain? Or would she be disgusted and damn him?

Saber pocketing the ring in a pouch, folded arms to wrap around shoulders and tugged his cloak around him. For all the years he'd tried to forget his childhood, why did it have to be now he must be plagued with guilt and regret?

_Nor the demons you carry_…Enril had said. Not actual demons, only personal ones, carried deep. They had only surfaced now and then, more often than not faced in bad dreams. Sometimes his temper revealed hidden emotions he'd keep buried as well. Feelings of helplessness or humility often brought a sudden and very dangerous rage it took effort for the thief to control.

Saber buried his face in his arms, unable to shut out the sudden flash of memories he had tried so hard to inter into the past. Caius' had re-invoked the demons with his revealing all that Nekros was and more. All the years of layering new memories to bury the old were swept away like a flood exposing corpses buried in silt.

Damn Caius… 

Flashbacks of hard fists, the husky words whispered in his ear as Nekros did things to the boy no child should face. Pain, humiliation, and disgust swelled as if it all happened just yesterday. Nekros kept him locked in a closet, using him to get into places any adult thief couldn't fit. The assassin ordered Saber to leave notes, steal documents, or any other chore that needed doing. No, he'd never been an assassin but some of his actions might have led to another's demise. There was also the constant abuse from his now-dead master as well. The man was expert at pain and very good about invoking fear.

Scratching fingernails against forearms, Saber welcomed the sting of pain to offset the memory of hurt in his past.

_He deserved it…_Saber thought like a mantra, _Deserved everything that happened to him…_

By the second day, Eiryn took vigil atop the ridge that bordered the tribe's encampment and the direction where Saber would return. It was foolish she knew, even torturous to place herself in such a way to either face the joy of his coming back or the despair of no longer seeing him.

Nibani advised her against it, pulling her away now and then to help with chores, only to find the girl returned at any time in her chosen spot. "You should stay busy." She said for the fifth time that day.

Eiryn looked over her shoulder to the wisewoman, giving her a smile. "I am busy. Busy waiting." She said with a wink. Her mood was better than the day before, but not enough to settle her fears that the Dunmer wouldn't return.

Throwing her hands up in frustration, the wisewoman shook her head and returned to her duties. "You are a fool, child."

"That I am…that I am." Eiryn murmured.

Saber entered the last burial chamber with all the stealth of a cat, and all senses at their edge. He had already his sword in hand, and carried a torch now to help light his way. The undead could care less of whatever light one carried for it wasn't light that attracted but the scent of blood, or the movement of the living that drew their attention.

Peering into every corner for possible attack, Saber took assessment of the rocky walls, the uneven floor, and took some reassurance at least there was room enough for a fair fight. That was, until the rustling of several footsteps drew close. The torchlight caught the ruckus grinning skulls of four skeletons bearing down on him. He'd have no time to cast a spell, not even for Enril.

Falling into a fighter's stance, he swept the sword in a wide arch, battering against a shield of one of his foes, and nearly taking the arm off another. The torch soon followed, thrusting into the empty eye sockets of the third, but having no effect. Gritting teeth, Saber crouched to build up an upward thrust, taking satisfaction of the stagger two of the undead as they fell back, and he managed an impressive kick to land one of the skeletons to shatter bones on the ragged floor.

Taking opportunity in that short pause of battlem, Saber summoned Enril with a practiced twitch of his hand. He was surprised to find the spirit actually taking the immediate defense for once. The spirit surged forward, shrieking as it took the attention of two of the opponents, leaving Saber to deal with a single opponent.

Using the torch and blade, Saber easily dispatched the armored corpse, turning on Enril's foes from behind and finding the distraction enough to even the odds considerably. Maybe _Enril was right about being summoned more often to gain his power…_Saber thought to himself.

_About time you summoned me back_, the voice rasped when the last skeleton fell.

_Then again…maybe not. _

_Sen-Senipul is over in that cave that way_…Enril's shadowy form hovered, and then turned to the only other tunnel to go. _Be cautious._

Saber cocked an eyebrow at his guide, curious about this sudden focus to the task at hand. Perhaps nearly soul-trapping the being set him right? "Distract him, and I will get the bow."

_No_, Enril insisted, _This one you will need to defeat. The dead do not give up their possessions so easily_.

"Great," Saber muttered, swinging the scimitar to loosen the tension in his arm. "So I have to actually kill Sen-Senipul to get the bow?" What would the Ashkhan think of that? This spirit was after all his father, and a hero to the tribe. As for killing the dead, it was more of banishing them altogether from this plane of existence. Even Enril knew that, unless he was soul trapped which bound a soul within a magical gem to be used later for enchantments.

The thief considered how powerful a gem would be if it carried the mighty Ashlander warrior but quickly dismissed such evil thoughts. The Urshilaku would not be happy in the least if they discovered he'd done such a thing to one of their ancestors. If he defeated this spirit, it would have to be without soul trapping him.

_But to do the same to me is acceptable?_ Enril's hiss interrupted his thoughts.

"I wouldn't have done it" Saber told him, "You're not worth the waste of a good soul gem." The joke came out a bit more callous than intended, but Saber had more than enough of the ghost's presence for one day. "Ready?"

The ghost did not reply but writhed and puffed ready for battle. Saber knew Sen-Senipul could defeat his spirit guide, but could not kill him. He'd only be sent to the nether-plane, and not be able to be summoned until the next day. Then Saber would face the spirit alone…_Ok, perhaps no comfort there-_

Steadying his nerve, the thief crept into the next chamber, curious how best to defeat this powerful spirit, or what the ghost would think of intruders being in his burial chamber. Listening, Saber could hear the faint wisp of a presence within, yet the ceiling was rather tall, the outcropping hiding any number of spaces something could be hidden in, and to either side, mummies rested atop pillars to keep vigil. At least they will stay there, Saber thought.

Suddenly a sudden blast of fire hit him in the chest, reeling him back to hit hard on the floor. A swell of energy moved over him. The specter was formidable indeed as it shrieked in remonstration. Wisps of ghostly arms swirled in anger, the faint outline of a misshapen face gaped a mouth wide to emit another horrendous scream.

Thrusting the torch, Saber realized it would prove futile against and dead warrior and quickly drove up the point of his blade. The tip felt as though it hit something corporal, and the ghost cringedback from the magical steel.

Unable to make out any defining form of the ghost, Saber could see Enril circle the other to provide a distraction. Enril, a warrior himself in his own day, was useless to fight except for this small task of diversion. That is my fault…Saber considered, knowing his powers were weakened by not being summoned frequently enough. If he were summoned, he would have more power to attack, even kill.

_As I've often told you_…Enril rasped.

"This is not the time-" Saber muttered at him, hit again by the powerful force. It was not true fire, but something worse. It hit like an anvil, almost shattering teeth with the force, throwing him sideways against a wall. It still burned, not the skin, but burned one's spirit, threatening to tear one's soul from its morrings.

Swinging wildly, Saber felt the sword hit again, causing the creature to recoil long enough to draw back and hit again. Another blast sent him backwards, nearly knocking the wind out of him, before he scrambled to his feet. The spirit rushed him, another explosion on the way, but this time, the nimble thief jumped up, moving fingers quickly to form a glyph of levitation. Rising up near the ceiling, Saber avoided the blast, which bounced harmlessly against the wall.

Taking the opportunity at hand, Saber dropped behind Sen-Senipul to swing again and again at the ghost, gladdened to feel the blade hit, and the impact the magic had on the being. It hissed and writhed, turning to other tactics to fend him off.

Another discharge this time of intense cold ripped into the thief, gripping his soul and giving it a fierce shake. Unable to stand, Saber felt the hard floor slam against his knees.

_Get up!_ Enril shrieked, flying wildly to distract the assault from his charge.

"Can't…" Saber gasped, struggling back to pinwheel legs and get away from the undead spirit, which only advanced triumphant. "So…cold-"

Another blow of ice engulfed him, and Saber felt this time he'd finally met his match. He leaned against a rock pillar, the only way now he was even able to remain upright. Gods, how he hated the undead! So jealous of the living they were, often angry or resentful that they were trapped in Oblivion while the living raiding their resting places-

Stunned from the bitter cold, Saber desperately lifted the sword he couldn't even feel through numbed hands. The ghost almost impaled himself, touching the blade if only by accident and drew back to screech again, attempting to send another blast of deathly chill.

Reflexes felt so slow now, but Saber let gravity take hold, dropped to the floor to roll under the floating wraith. With a final attempt at attack, he propelled his sword up, slashing sideways through the cloud, and was amazed to find that it suddenly dissipated into nothing.

He was stunned, gasping air, and remaining on the floor to stare up in amazement. _I did it…?_

Enril drew near, the grating voice just as surprised. _Perhaps you'll make a warrior yet. _He said, growing faint as his own energies were spent.

"S'wit." Saber muttered as darkness enveloped him.

The morning of the third day, Eiryn sat atop the ridge, wrapped in a cloak and feeling the itch of a storm approaching. The dark clouds swelled from Red Mountain, and though there was still some time yet, Eiryn would wait until the last minute before seeking shelter.

He'll come today…she thought, He will.

_And if he doesn't?_ Doubts caused her to shiver, pulling the folds of her cloak around her and found she was unable to shut out the despair that nipped at any hope. _Three days or you go home…_

No, she'd seek him out by nightfall of this day. Damn him for leaving her, though at the same time knowing he had no choice. If she had gone with him, it was likely the tribe would never accept him. Then the entire quest was placed in jeopardy. The wind picked up, kicking up dirt and particles of dead roots and bark. The clouds were bearing down, ominously close now, the force of the wind tugging at the hood of her cloak.

Something caught her eye. A movement, a shadow almost coming over the far hill, and to her utter relief, saw Saber returning with the bow in hand. He's done it! Tears stung her eyes and she moved forward ready to run to him, but something caught her hand.

Startled she found Nibani beside her, keeping her still. "He must return alone, and finish the ritual." She told her gently.

Where did she come from? Eiryn thought, wondering if she was too lost in thought to hear her approach. Nearly giddy with impatience, the young scout waiting in agony as Saber made his way back, and she could now see he was covered in dust and filth, hair was lackluster, dulled by the ash, and clothes were ragged, the shirt in tatters. The strong wind blew hair across his face, and he nearly stumbled a few times, indicated the exhaustion from a fierce fight. But he was moving, and alive-

Only when the Dunmer was in talking distance, did Eiryn feel the hand release her arm. Free to go, she ran up and nearly cried out upon seeing dried blood on his hands. She put arms around his waist to help steady him, and found him still walking towards the camp. "What happened?"

He waved a hand, too tired to even discuss it. A weak smile tugged his mouth. "Saving the world." He continued to walk, too concerned that once he stopped he's fall over asleep. Instead, he headed past the wisewoman to meet with the Ashkhan.

By now the call of his arrival had been carried through the tribe, and the people poured out of the yurts to see his return. They pulled their scarves about their heads, murmured surprise that the foreigner had actually succeeded when so many had failed. The thief didn't expect cheers and received none, but Saber found he received something of more importance; their respect. He fell to his knees, hoping it appeared his inclination was paying homage to the Ashkhan instead, and laid the bow at his feet.

"So, outlander…You've completed the ritual." Sat Matuul spoke with a low voice, his very presence rather intimidating. Here was their best warrior, and looked every bit the part. Standing straight, with chin raised, he stood with both feet square. Black hair was draw up tight away from his face with bright feathers crowning across his forehead. Ornate facial tattoos donned forehead, cheeks, and even chin, giving him a fierce appearance, with raised skin illustrating the scars he bore thru his own initiations. He dared bare his face in light of the blowing wind, hardly affected by its tumult.

Saber looked up, wondering if he'd done what was expected, if this Ashkhan would know he'd have to destroy the spirit in order to receive the bow. Maybe he knew all along?

The eyes of the tribal leader were bright red, made brighter by the ash coating around his eyes. "This is indeed my father's bow. I name you, Saber, clanfriend of the Urshilaku." His foot nudged the bow to the prostrate Dunmer. "Keep the bow, and bear it with honor. I will fulfill my promise-" The warrior nodded towards the wisewoman, indicated she was to hear his words as well. "Go to the wisewoman's yurt, and Nibani Maesa will examine you and test you against the prophecies."

Nibani nudged Eiryn, "Help him to my yurt." She murmured softly.

Only then did the young scout realize how exhausted Saber was. He could barely stand. Pulling his arm around her shoulders, she had Saber depend on her strength to help him stagger to the old woman's tent and there he nearly collapsed on a bedroll.

Eiryn swallowed hard, also knowing by now it was more than just fatigue. "You're hurt." She said, fumbling with removing weapons and the leather doublet he wore.

He hissed as the shirt was drawn over his head. Several slashes with crusted blood were livid along his ribs. "Not too badly though." He told her. "I'll live. I'm more tired than anything else."

True, none of his injuries would incapacitate him, but he was in pain. With Nibani's help, healing salves and potions soon revived him a bit, but the wisewoman encouraged him to rest. Eiryn paused to look closer at the odd lines of scratch marks on forearms. They matched one another; four long scrapes with dried blood along each edge. What could've made them? And why on the arms?

As he relaxed on the bedroll, nearly asleep, the wisewoman gave the scout a knowing smile. "Now will you have more faith in him?"

Blushing, Eiryn had to smile. He's back…he's alive. "You should know that won't stop me from still worrying."

"I never said it would." Nibani smiled back.

When Saber slept, Nibani inspected him for any birthmarks, explaining to Eiryn parts of the Prophecy. "Legend says Indoril Nerevar's family standard bore the moon and star," she told her, pausing with a slight frown upon the scratches she found. "and Nerevar's armor and weapons bore this sign. Some say he bore a moon-and-star birthmark. Some say he has a magic ring marked with a moon-and-star. Others say he was born under a moon-and-star. In any case, I think the moon-and-star is the mark of the Nerevarine, and he seem to bear nothing of such a mark."

"Then he isn't the Incarnate," Eiryn murmured.

Nibani shrugged. "I didn't say that. I said we're not sure what this mark of the Moon-and-Star is."

The wisewoman soon wakened him, asking him of his past and trying to discern if he was in fact the Neveravine. Saber could tell her little, admitting he had no memory of parents, but knew his birthdate from a mage's scrying.

The wisewoman tapped fingers along her chin in thought. "If what you say is true, you are indeed born on a certain day, of uncertain parents, but many have the same birthday and many are not sure of their parents. It does not make you Neveravine."

Saber took the news almost with relief, but Nibani shook her head. "It is a puzzle," She further explained. "You still may be the one to become the Neveravine…but there is more to be known. The Lost Prophecies would reveal more. If you were to find them, and bring them to me, I could answer with more certainty."

Saber didn't look at all happy. He'd wanted to be confirmed nothing more than a simple man, a petty thief so he can get back to his life. Now the quest deemed he find Lost Prophecies, and still the possibility of being the promised one. _Of all the rotten luck-_

"I must tell you of the prophecies so you can better understand them." Nibani told him, "We call it the Stranger, our best known of the prophecies."

_When earth is sundered, and skies choked black,  
And sleepers serve the seven curses,  
To the hearth there comes a stranger,  
Journeyed far 'neath moon and star. _

_Though stark-born to sire uncertain  
His aspect marks his certain fate.  
Wicked stalk him, righteous curse him.  
Prophets speak, but all deny. _

_Many trials make manifest  
The stranger's fate, the curses' bane.  
Many touchstones try the stranger.  
Many fall, but one remains."_

_That makes no more sense than ramblings_, Saber thought darkly. _Just like prophecies to further confuse the issue_. But Nibani continued to explain well enough that words lose meaning over time, that the verbal memory of her people might have misunderstood certain aspects, but that was all they had.

"And there is more to understand," She continued, "More to learn. The full title of the prophecy is "_Seven Visions of Seven Trials of the Incarnate_". Listen, and I will tell you the verses."

"_What he puts his hand to, that shall be done.  
What is left undone, that shall be done.  
On a certain day to uncertain parents  
Incarnate moon and star reborn.  
Neither blight nor age can harm him.  
The Curse-of-Flesh before him flies.  
In caverns dark Azura's eye sees  
and makes to shine the moon and star.  
A stranger's voice unites the Houses.  
Three Halls call him Hortator.  
A stranger's hand unites the Velothi.  
Four Tribes call him Nerevarine.  
He honors blood of the tribe unmourned.  
He eats their sin, and is reborn.  
His mercy frees the cursed false gods,  
Binds the broken, redeems the mad. _

_One destiny  
He speaks the law for Veloth's people.  
He speaks for their land, and names them great." _

Saber stared at her hard, feeling something akin to fear rising up and only settled with anger. "What in the name of all Oblivion is that supposed to mean?"

"Saber…" Eiryn scowled at his rudeness.

The wisewoman ignored the comments, only shrugging her shoulders. "In times of war, the great Houses name a Horator, and the tribes will name a Neveravine. The visions speak of your united all Velothi, all the Dunmer of Morrowind." She smiled softly. "The other aspects are a bit more confusing. Neither Blight nor age can harm him..? That is a puzzle. Does this mean a cure for Blight? I do not know. The tribe unmourned might mean the Sixth House, the false cursed gods could be the Tribunal."

Drawing out a heavy sigh, Saber stared into the small fire within her yurt.

"Sounds simple enough." He muttered, still looking tired. "Unite all of Morrowind…Fight the Sixth House, find a cure for Corpus. Simple."

Eiryn found herself break out in a light chuckle "If anyone can do it, you could." He looked up at her sharply, wondering if she actually meant it as a joke and was teasing him. She had said something similar to him once before. She grinned at him, "Or at least try."

Too exhausted to argue, he huffed a sigh. "Maybe tomorrow. I'm too tired to save the world right now."

"Rest some more." Nibani told him, "You still have much to do to face your destiny."

Moving from stiff muscles, Saber decided he wanted to find a nice hole in the ground to sleep until next season, but the small tent they provided them would have to do for now. The ash storm was in full force, causing them to cover their faces as they finally reached the tent and nearly collapsed inside.

Eiryn helped him to the bedroll, and remove the rest of his clothes. He chuckled when she trailed fingers along his face, wanting to be very certain he was alive and actually beside her. "I'm afraid I'm not much in the mood." He smiled, interpreting her caress as being suggestive.

"That's alright." She smiled, moving to simply lie next to him. "Go to sleep. I'll keep watch."

His eyes closed, unable to stay open. "Watch what?"

"For any trouble that might have followed you, S'wit." She snickered. He mumbled something, rolling over to wrap an arm across her chest.

"I have all the trouble I need right here." He said, and she could tell by the quiet breathing he was soon asleep.


	11. Ch 11 Return to Balmora

Returning to Balmora seemed a shorter journey than leaving to Saber. Perhaps it was because this time he knew exactly where they were, or perhaps fighting some his own demons and all the undead had stiffened his courage against riding the 'bugs'. They even took the Stilt Strider from Maar Gan all the back to Balmora, and he only found his stomach getting a bit queasy, but not incapacitating as before.

Eiryn, meanwhile, was clearly happy that he made it back in one piece. Saber had feared she'd be furious at him, and the way he slipped out in the middle of the night in order to prevent her from going. He strongly suspected she would've followed if she could, and knowing all the dangers he'd face in the tomb, he was glad he forced the issue. Pleased even more still she'd forgiven him for it.

As the strider made its way closer to the city of Balmora, Eiryn's expression turned pensive, her body tense. She felt Saber's hand cover her own, and when she looked up, saw his knowing smile. They were both filthy from the trip, and dirt streaked across his face, hair came loose from his hair tied back, falling over eyes.

"Worried about facing Caius?" He murmured, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"He's probably still very angry with me." She told him. In all her years Eiryn had never so openly rebelled against her father's wishes, and now she had to face him again. It was difficult being she still wanted his approval, but seemed to always fall short.

"You'll do fine." Saber replied with conviction. His faith in her strengthened her resolve. "Me…on the other hand."

Eiryn almost laughed, totally forgetting that he had to face the spymaster as well. They hadn't parted in the best of ways, but at least now he had this news from the Urshilaku wisewoman. Their journey had been a success, hadn't it? Caius had to be happy with that at least.

Stepping off the strider port, they entered the city of Balmora in the late afternoon. By now clouds had gathered to cause a steady drizzle of warm rain. Saber didn't mind at all. It felt clean, refreshing, not at all the horrid storms of the Ashlands. He felt grimy and exhausted, and wanted nothing more to find a public bathhouse somewhere to soak in a large tub and massaged by some beautiful women-

Stopping short, he glanced at Eiryn, who looked equally filthy and travel worn. Maybe no to the beautiful women. He had one right beside him that was more than enough. The thought stunned him, almost causing him to pause mid step. Only now did he realize how attached he'd grown to the young woman, and why not? She'd more than proven herself a valuable friend and companion.

Still…he chided himself. Being he was a thief, a loner, and with the words from Enril still tugging at his conscious, he wasn't sure it was a good thing. He'd always told himself that such attachments were a weakness, and such weakness dulled your edge. The very reason Caius kept his relationship with his daughter secret was much the same reason Saber had remained a loner. It made one vulnerable, and in many ways, that was exactly what Saber felt with Eiryn. Perhaps she'd never realize the power she had over him, how so very easily he felt he could now break if something should happen to her. All because of these feelings he'd somehow developed for her…feeling of what? Of love?

This time his stride did falter, and a wave of fear spread over him. No, not love. Can't be! Affection definitely, a level of friendship, certainly, but love? To the Saber, he'd grown very fond of various women through his life, even to the point of feeling vunerable even then. However, with Eiryn, it seemed different somehow. In a way, he felt she was an equal, a companion that watched his back. The consideration of his feeling being something more baffled him-

"What's wrong?" Eiryn asked, noticing the waver in his step.

So keen she was to know things about him, Saber smiled at her. "Just tired." He lied.

They reached Caius' apartment and exchanged foreboding glances before rapping knuckles on the wooden door. A familiar voice called out. "Enter-"

"Here goes nothing." Eiryn murmured.

The room was as it always was, cluttered with debris and the spymaster wearing his ragged shirt and hair unkempt. A day's growth of beard threatened to actually cover his face now, as he hadn't shaved for days. "Ah you've both returned." He said, folding arms across his chest defensively. "And what did the wisewoman say?"

The question was directed to the Dark Elf, keeping the meeting all business. "I have to find something called the lost prophecies for the wisewoman to be sure." He then added a summery of what transpired, of the visions and words of what Nibani had told him.

Caius sat down on his tiny cot, looking stunned. "That's incredible." He murmured, absently scratching a day's growth of beard. "I will try to get word to my contact in Vivec. Maybe she can find out more whether the Dissident Priests have any lost prophecies."

Eiryn cringed, noticing he was ignoring her. She wanted to say something to discern how Caius felt of her decision, or if he was still angry with her. He was oddly distracted, not even looking at her or acknowledging her presence. Unable to speak for fear of his antagonism, she remained feeling small, as if she was a little girl all over again.

The spymaster tossed Saber a small bag of coin, nearly catching him off guard. The Dunmer's quick hands instinctively statched the bag mid-air. This gold meant another trip of course, the money to be used for training and supplies. "While I find out what I can on those Lost Prophecies, I have a tough assignment for you. Think you're up to it?"

It felt oddly like a dare. Saber gave a swaggering smirk. "Ready for anything." He said.

Caius snorted in distain. "Don't get so cocky. I think this is going to be a tough one." He shuffled through some papers, drawing out a map to hand over to him. "I need you to go to Fort Buckmoth. They had sent a patrol near Gnaar Mok, hunting smugglers with Sixth House connections. They found a base, a shrine, and a priest named Dagoth Gares. Speak to Champion Raesa Pullia at the fort, she'll tell you more about the patrol's encounter. Your orders are to find that base, kill Dagoth Gares and bring me a report on the everything you find there."

His attention finally turned to his daughter. She cringed at the cold stare, knowing he was still furious with her decision with going to the Urshikaku camp. "Take your scout as far as Gnaar Mok. I wouldn't recommend taking her into the base however."

Saber frowned, seeing the tension between them. The hurt in Eiryn's eyes was apparent even in the dim light of the little room. Surely Caius must see that? How could he treat her so? "She's been invaluable to me, Caius." He said sharply, daring the man to provoke another fight.

"I'm sure she is." Caius said with a blank expression.

Eiryn swallowed hard, her eyes blinking too much.

Saber bristled. "She did the right thing coming with me. I wouldn't have gotten that far so quickly without her. Her skills as a scout are unsurpassed-"

Caius' jaw twitched, his cold stare finally breaking away. He cast that cold stare to the Dark Elf. "She's quit the Blades. She's your problem now."

The words stung hard, and Eiryn could bear no more, simply walking out, leaving the door swinging wide. Hot tears now flowed down her cheeks as she headed to…where? No longer caring, she simply moved into the street.

Saber was furious and spun on the spymaster, this time he was barely able to control his temper. He gave the old man a quick shove, and when Caius reached for his blade, Saber was faster, drawing his dagger out to press the razor's edge dangerously close to the mans' jugular. No, he wouldn't hurt the man, but he wanted to make sure he had his full attention.

The spymaster was stunned the elf got the better of him, pinning him against the wall with the edge of his blade at his throat. He was fast, faster even than what he assumed. Only now, Caius realized his attacking the elf before had been _permitted_, that Saber had all along carried enough ability to fend the spymaster off. Such news was not easy to take to the seasoned fighter.

"Is this how Nekros met his end, Feryl?" Caius sneered, lifting his chin as if daring him to use the blade at his throat. He somehow wanted Saber to screw up and be sent back to prison. But for all rational reasoning, the spymaster knew he could not fail the Emperor's wishes for the Incarnate, and such knowledge only fueled his frustration more.

Red eyes narrowed dangerously. "You are a fool, Cosades." Saber told him in a low controlled tone. "Hate me if you want. I care little for you opinion, but Eiryn doesn't deserve your anger. She did what she thought was right, and if you could step back from your holier-than-thou attitude, you'd see she was right."

"I would advise you to take your hands off of me." Caius said too calmly.

Frustrated with his obstinacy, Saber stepped back, sheathing his dagger. "You will lose her, Caius." He warned, shaking his head in disbelief at the man's stubbornness. "All because you can't see her for what she is."

"And you think you do?" Caius's anger flared anew, "You've only known her for a few weeks. Please tell me then, you who are enlightened…what is Eiryn?"

Straightening, Saber glared. "A very capable woman with an incredible depth to her sense of right and wrong. You underestimate her, Cosades. I might have only known her a few weeks, but even I can see that. You humans do not have centuries to make amends to your mistakes. You would do well to keep that in mind." He turned to leave but felt the old man pull his arm to keep him there.

"But you do." Caius snapped, glaring with venom. "You're Dunmer, and will see centuries…she will see only one if she's lucky. Are you even thinking of her?"

Saber knew what his meaning, as well as the change of topic. This wasn't about the relationship with his daughter; it was his anger towards the Dunmer and his 'insinuating' with Eiryn. Caius had disgust for the thief, dispised what he represented even moreso that he was being with his daughter.

"_Do_ I have centuries?" Saber bared teeth this time, feeling his temper getting the better of him. "I'll be lucky to see the next week let alone centuries. You know as well as I do. Don't throw this on me. Your problem is between Eiryn and yourself, and you know what? Your words and actions will drive her away, and permenantly. Be a stubborn fool and keep your pride, but in the end you'll lose –" He caught himself before using the term _daughter_. He promised himself never to even speak of their relationship. "Eiryn."

Finally something seemed to get thru to the old man. The grip on Saber's arm released, and Caius stepped back in shock. "I did what I had to do to keep her safe-" The words were spoken out loud, but Saber had the odd sense, the man was trying to justify his actions to himself.

"She doesn't _want_ to be safe." Saber told him. Eiryn loved challenges. Couldn't Caius see that? "She doesn't _need_ to be safe. If you'd step back and take a good look at her, you'd see that."

"I know she's able-" Caius began to say in a softer tone, but Saber had enough of this.

"Then maybe you should tell her that!" He snapped, this time leaving without letting the man say anther word.

Eiryn felt her cheeks hot with anger, and tears that refused to remain in check. Stomping with a steady gait, she walked along one of the streets of Balmora, not certain where to go, but knowing she needed to get away from her father. _She's your problem now_…Those words had cut like a knife.

Wiping a tear angrily with her cheek, she continued past the shallow river that separated the city, pausing to look at the drops of water causing ripples on the rivers' surface. The rain was a faint drizzle, hardly enough to soak anything, but a constant reminder of the forces of nature. The moisure was thick in the late afternoon air, causing a light fog to cast over the city of Balmora.

She turned, heading west to enter into the nearly vacant marketplace. On a day like today, shopkeepers kept within the dry interiors. Even the pickpockets might avoid the steady drizzle of rain. As she entered the usually bustling marketplace, the open place was devoid of everyone. Not a day to shop, she thought glumly.

"Eiryn." Saber's voice said behind her. He strode up with purpose, concerned with her sudden departure. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." She said not able to look at him. She turned to head to the western hill, where a set of stone steps led up to the shops that were built in the past year. For several minutes, the elf followed quietly behind her, respecting her silence. Only after she sniffled did he speak again.

"You want to go to the bathhouse?" Saber finally asked"You look as though you could wash up."

Eiryn paused, realizing they stood outside the public bathhouse of Balmora. She wondered why he said nothing of what just happened, and then she knew he was trying to cheer her up, to find a pleasant distraction. "I thought you had your orders-"

He blew air in disgust. "Not until I get a bath. I'm filthy." Eiryn felt a smile tug her mouth at his dramatic rubbing of his face, smearing the fine layer of ash that had been there now streaked with rain. "Might get a massage as well-" Her gaze sharpened with jealousy. He laughed. "Unless _you_ want to do it."

"I charge ten gold pieces." Eiryn told him, feeling her mood begin to brighten.

"Done!" He said, taking her arm to lead her up the stairs. "And I want you to be _thorough_." A quick wink and leering gaze told her all she needed to know to what he had in mind.

"S'wit…" Eiryn muttered but found the corners of her mouth begin to curl.

"You keep calling me that." He laughed.

"You keep acting like that." She retorted.

Hours later, Eiryn sighed happily, all troubles forgotten, as strong fingers ran up and down her spine. Lying face down on a long table, the scent of floral oils rubbed into her skin, the young scout felt this what Paradise must feel like. The effects of a few goblets of expensive brandy helped a bit as well.

"This feels wonderful." She sighed happily. The scout had given Saber his back massage before she took her turn, and now enjoyed his attention.

Saber chuckled low, enjoying the smooth feel of her skin now slick in scented oils. There was a certain level of power one felt with providing such pleasure in a woman like this. Now relaxed, he'd spent an excessive amount of gold to rent out the bathhouse room for the two of them. By the smile on her face, and her relaxed body laid out before him, it was worth every coin.

The room itself consisted of a long table, and a stone tub carved smooth that was big enough to hold up to five adults. A goodly amount of Imperial brandy, with some candlelight, and Saber felt satisfied that it was enough to ease the woman's sorrows…even for a short time.

"Always eager to please." Saber murmured next to her ear. Her long hair was and damp from enjoying time in the steam room, but she was soon to take another soak in the tub, already cleared of the their previous bath and filling again with hot water from hot springs. "And I expect a good tip."

Eiryn giggled at his remark, adding a pleasant moan when he pressed a spot on her back. "Where did you learn how to do this?" She asked him, giving a soft grunt when he pressed hard.

"The Blue Lady." He told her. His hands were slick, moving to concentrate on her legs.

"Who?"

He chuckled. "It was a high class brothel in the Imperial City." He explained, running palms down the length of her thigh. "The ladies there were very knowledgeable in massage and other delightful practices."

"They taught a client how to do massage?" She frowned, not understanding.

"I wasn't a client." He explained.

She tensed, turned her head to give him an odd look. "You _worked_ at a brothel?" That would certainly explain his talents in bed-

He laughed at the idea, shaking his head. "I _owned_ the Blue Lady."

"You _owned_ a brothel?" Eiryn wasn't sure what to think of that.

Another light laugh. "Surprised?" He asked, and then continued at her light shrug of the shoulders. "I actually won it for a friend of mine. She worked there, and the previous owner was rather cruel. I gave her the Blue Lady to give her freedom."

"How-"

"-did I come to own a brothel?" Saber finished for her. He'd been asked these same questions before every time he mentioned he once owned an establishment of ill repute. "I won it a card game."

Eiryn giggled at the thought of his gambling for a brothel only to give it away to someone else. "That's a lot of work to own a brothel."

"Well, I suppose I wanted something of a home." He explained, fingers trailing down to her feet to give her shivers up her spine. "I got free room and board, and anything else I wanted, and _whenever_ I wanted. Lyra got to be Madam, and a safe place to live, as well as providing a haven for many of the girls there."

Eiryn bit her lower lip in thought. "Did the women stay, even after you took ownership?"

"Of course." Saber told her, moving lower to begin rubbing her feet. "They made good money, and this time could keep most of their earnings. I also left the brothel in Lyra's charge, and it was surprisingly profitable."

She looked down at him, watching him expertly rub the balls of her feet. "You got free room and board?"

"And anything else I wanted." He winked at her.

"So why did you keep stealing?"

Saber felt a wave of uncomfortable scrutiny spread over him. Now they touched on the 'right and wrong' of it. Wanting her to understand, Saber spoke slowly and with careful thought. "I suppose I should've retired then…" He said, "But I liked the thrill of the work."

"The challenge." Eiryn smiled, knowing exactly what he meant.

His smile widened, "Yes, I suppose so. The danger too."  
"Then you were caught." Eiryn stated, knowing the rest of the story.

He shrugged, "My luck ran out, I got sloppy."

"But you continue to steal, even now, don't you?"

Her question sounded terribly close to being judgmental. Lifting his chin, he looked her straight in the eye. "If you want the truth…yes. Now and then. I've joined the thieves' guild, and have the skills for it. Would you ask me to stop?"

Eiryn stared back, startled that this man might consider giving up what was important to him…for her? Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She sat up; drawing feet away from him, knowing now the conversation had become serious. He looked suddenly concerned as a slight frown drew brows together. She reached down, trailed fingers across his forehead. "No," She told him, looking deeply into those wondrous wine-red eyes of his. "I'd never ask you to do something you don't want to do."

Oddly she thought saw a pained expression sweep over him, but perhaps it was a trick of the light. In the candle glow, his stormy-gray skin gleamed with oil and sweat, glossy hair slicked back from his face to the middle of his back, and those eyes of his, glowed orange-red when he looked down. Wounds he'd received were nearly healed, returning him to the smooth skinned god he was-

She saw his throat work when he swallowed hard, his chin lowered as he looked down at the floor. "I need to tell you something." He murmured, his voice almost a whisper.

"What is it?"

"About us…." He said, the humor drained from his face. Something close to fear or despair now seemed to exude from his very pores.

"What?" Eiryn pulled the towel around her.

He looked away, then back. "I think its fair to tell you that there is no future with me." She grew very still, staring at him without blinking. He wet his lips nervously. "I cannot offer you anything. No home, no children, no marriage." He drew in a slow breath. "I cannot even promise that I'd be alive in the near future."

Eiryn stared at him, truly beyond caring about anything more than what he was here and now. "No children?" It was odd he brought it up, he spoke so confidently and how could a man be so certain?

Again, he fidgeted. "Years ago, I took a substance called Shadowbane. It renders one immune to poison. Its an old assassin's trick." He explained. He'd taken the substance as a desperate hope of using poisoning against Nekros. The plan worked, almost seeming too simple to the young elf at the time. "You slowly build up resistances to most poisons by taking it in small amounts, but the side effect causes…sterility."

"No children." Eiryn spoke, seeing him in a new light now. No wonder there was such abandon to his lovemaking, he'd never be concerned with getting a woman with child. She had assumed he was like this just because he was a scoundrel.

"No marriage." He reiterated in earnest, wanting her to know where he stood now.

"Marriage?" Eiryn said. Who was asking him to do that? In light of what the Emperor expected of him, Saber could hardly consider anything of the sort anyway. The thought never even occurred until now that what she wanted outside of moving up through the ranks of the guild. "Who said anything of marriage?"

Saber blinked. Well, naturally he'd known other women who felt the same, or consider somewhere in their future of having a family.

A soft laugh bubbled up from the young scout. She trailed fingers down the side of his face, admiring his honesty. "Because you can't have children, you don't want to stay together?"

He blinked, sitting back on his heels. "You'd _want_ to stay together?" The concept thrilled him, perhaps even scared him. At this point, when he would admit to the woman in his life how there could be no future, they tended to move on, or he did. "Don't you want a family someday?"

Eiryn blew out the breath of air she'd been holding. Was that it? He thought no children meant they couldn't have a future together? "I think the real question here is how you feel about me now?"

Apprehension reared up abruptly, stirring a pool of emotion he had for this woman before him. It was such a frightening prospect, the thief never considered he'd face. Who would've guessed he'd actually fall for anyone, let alone to wish to settle down with just one woman? For years he'd used the Shadowbane, his lifestyle, almost anything as an excuse to why he couldn't remain with any one person, but this one still wanted him, wanted him despite everything. And she knew of his past! Well, not everything…He wouldn't have to tell her everything…

His silence was deafening, and Eiryn felt hands tremble. She clenched fists to still them, holding her breath for his answer, and dreading what his reply would be. His hand reached out, touched hers, to draw up to his lips.

"You are dear to me." He whispered, holding her palm against his cheek. "More than any other woman has even come close."

A breeze could've knocked her over at this point. She felt the slick oil on his skin, the soft breath against her palm when he kissed it. "And you want to be together?"

"If you'll have me." He whispered, and only then she could tell how much effort it took him to come to this point. How terrified he must have been to reveal so much to her. "For however long I have."

And that was it, she knew. They both knew he might not have long, or he could even have centuries, despite his grim outlook, but for now she was more than content to take him however much he could provide. Smiling, she slid off the table to kneel beside him on the floor, cupping his face in oiled hands. "I'll take what I can get." She murmured, covering his mouth with her own.


	12. Ch 12 Buckmoth

When Saber suggested through breakfast the next morning that she stay behind in Balmora on his trip to Gnaar Mok, she nearly threw her plate at him. He even ducked on instinct by the livid glare directed at him before regaining his composer. "Hear me out before you hit me." He told her, lifting hands in a formal surrender.

She tensed with green eyes livid, but remained silent.

"It's having nothing to do with my wanting to protect you." He explained quickly, moving his chair ever so subtly away from the angry Breton. "I'm thinking you could take up some lessons from Hasphat at the fighter's guild."

"_What?"_ Her voice was as edged and as dangerous as a blade.

Another inch he moved his chair, wondering if the path to the door was clear should he need to run. "Your skills as a scout is surpassed, my dear, but what of your short blade?"

She tapped fingers, too close to her knife next to her plate was Saber's thought. "So you're saying I take _lessons_ while you find this Sixth House base?" Eiryn glared, "Leaving me behind again?"

"Not at all." He insisted, "I can meet with you after I visit Fort Buckmoth. We can take a week or two for training before continuing to Gnaar Mok." Her body relaxed and he felt a bit relieved. "And we can see if your skills are up to the task."

The Breton bristled again, and Saber felt fortunate they were in a public place. The restaurant at the Eight Plates had enough patrons to come to his aid should the angry woman get out of hand, or at least, that was his hope. "And do I have any say in this?" She demanded.

"Of course you do." He replied.

"Good, because I'm going with you." She stated, pushing her plate away to indicate she was done with breakfast and done with discussing the topic with him.

_Rats_…Saber thought to himself, _that didn't go as well as planned_. It truly was not his intention of leaving her behind, even to protect her. Being she was still nursing the damage Caius had done to her with his over-protective nature, Saber was hardly going to take that up. He simply wanted her trained enough to back up that temper of hers.

"Would you accept my training you then?" He offered.

She raised an eyebrow at him, folding arms across her chest. "You?"

"I'm not a formal trainer, of course." He said, wiping his mouth with his napkin, "But I remember what I was taught."

"From Hasphat?"

He gave her an odd look. "I was formally trained in the Imperial City, by a swordmaster."

She nearly laughed. "_You?_'

Sitting back in his chair, Saber seemed to be insulted. "I'm hurt, Eiryn. Do you think I wear this sword for show?"

Eiryn bit her lower lip, considering him as a trained swordsman. It didn't make sense. If he was formally taught, he could've received all manner of commissions from the Legion, or Great Houses, or any number of places within Cyrodil to make a living by the sword. Why did he never boast of being formally trained, and for that matter, why remain a thief if he was an experienced swordsman?

"You've never seen me fight, have you?" He then added as if that alone would prove his claim. Well she had seen the fight in Desele's when he fended off the Nord and Redguard, but nothing with a blade in hand.

"You're a thief."

Saber shrugged. "True enough." He agreed. Most thieves wouldn't bother with any formal training outside of what their profession would merit, meaning how to sneak, lock pick, pickpocket, and the like. Rarely would they take up the blade in any proper capacity. "But I still trained with one of the best swordsman in the city." He tapped the hilt of his sword behind him. "Where do you think I got my sword?"

Eiryn eyed the graceful handle, the artistic working of metal and leather wrapped hilt. "Your swordmaster gave that to you?" She was still doubtful.

He shifted his weight, drawing the blade out to lay the steel on the table. His pride in his weapon was obvious. "It's a long story, but yes, that's where I received my sword."

It was a lovely curved blade with intricate runes engraved on the lower end of the steel, near the pommel. The hilt itself was wrapped in leather, and when Saber picked up the sword, he lifted it with a single finger, showing her its perfect balance.

"Does it have a name?" Eiryn asked, remembering many of the warriors she'd met in her time had named blades.

He shrugged, "_Porthos_ _Manos_." He told her with a wry smirk. "It means soul drinker in Old Cyrodil."

"Soul traps?" Eiryn asked, still not wanting to touch without permission.

Almost sensing her hesitation, he handed the blade to her. She felt hands tingle with the magic infused into the steel. "I had it enchanted when it was given to me, and named it." He leaned back, smiling proudly. "And what of your blade?"

Eiryn felt inept in light of what she held now. Her short sword was nothing more than a butter knife compared to the elegance of his weapon. She winced. "Don't even ask." She said handing it back.

"But this is what I mean." Saber grew suddenly very serious, sheathing the blade in its scabbard with practiced grace. "Your skill with the bow is unmatched, but what if we face close quarter fighting." He said, leaning forward to draw her into his scrutinizing gaze. "Do you think you're up to that?"

Lowering her eyes, Eiryn knew she wasn't. She also felt the dawning realization that Saber was providing her an opportunity to actually journey with him in anticipation of a real fight. This shook her to her very core, that he had that much faith in her, knowing how important it was to test her skill. "I don't want to be left behind." She said firmly.

He sat still looking at her a long moment, chewing his bottom lip in thought, and then clapped hands together. "Well then, I suppose the trip can wait a week or so while you're trained." He announced, concentrating on finishing his breakfast. "The Sixth House base will be there a week from now."

"You will train me?" She asked, not sure what to make of that.  
"Hasphat should." Saber admitted, "Like I said, I'm not a teacher."

"And then I go with you." She stated, almost like a question, wanting to be absolutely certain where she stood with him.

The Dark Elf blinked, eyes wide in surprise. "You said you would." He reminded her.

A smile spread over her face. "That I did."

Training was frustrating, Eiryn found. No wonder she tried avoiding learning more of the short blade skill. The wooden practice sword felt bulky, and her stance unbalanced. Too often, the trainer broke through her defense to whack her a painful strike. Hasphat suggested she might even try another weapon but the young scout knew that a short sword or dagger were both essential to any adventurer's travels.

"Are you sure you don't want to learn something else, such as the quarter staff?" Hasphat suggested the third time that day. He was a stout man but had not an ounce of fat on him. Well muscled to the point of being bulky, he could heft the heavy battle-axes or tackle the hammers with all the grace and fluidity as a sword. He also could fight barehanded, and some whispered he even enjoyed taking on pit fighting somewhere in the under city of Balmora, and was rumored to be quite good at it.

Growling under her breath, the Breton finally conceded to at least try to learn the staff or spear instead. When given a simple wooden staff to start, the parries and thrust felt more natural to her. As her body moved in sync with the wood, she also found that her short stature and arm strength were more balanced with this type of weapon.

The art of the staff was almost like a dance, using the surge of force to gracefully flow into a block or parry, then switching to the offensive. Spins and creative jabs could also be used successfully, and Eiryn felt the wood almost as an extension of her arm. The staff was also functional as a walking stick she found. If she used a spear, then this form of fighting became formidable indeed.

By the end of her first day, covered in sweat but feeling empowered with new skill, Eiryn found her hair working loose from her braid, and the tendrils now clung to the forehead and cheeks. A hard day's work, she mused, and soon found her self-pride rewarded Saber came to see her practice.

Dressed more casually, he wore a loose open necked shirt, and the usual dark trousers. His soft-soled boots reached nearly mid-thigh while long hair was tied back in a snugly plaited braid. Eiryn considered him with a discerning eye, finding him more relaxed than she'd seen him, and also appearing more 'regal', despite the casual outfit.

Saber grinned. "It would seem you found your true weapon." He commented after she successfully took a round with Hasphat.

"Yes, she's quite a natural." The weapon trainer commented out of breath. He'd also built up a sweat, the broad face flushed red from exertion. "Why Caius ever insisted she use the sword is beyond me. Her skills are obviously to the spear or staff."

"Care to spar, Saber?" Eiryn was feeling cocky, spun the staff in her hands.

"With staves?" He cocked a brow in doubt.

Hasphat clearly wanted a break, and waved his permission to the Dark Elf. "Watch it Saber, she enjoys hitting low."

Eiryn cast an evil grin, looking eager.

"Well…" Saber drawled, eying up her as a possible opponent. "I'd hate to hurt you."

"C'mon and try then." She challenged him, again spinning the long staff in her hands. It made the pleasant 'whoosh' sound as she did. Was she actually showing off?

Saber shrugged, standing near a fallen staff to use his toe and with a quick flick of his foot, threw the staff in the air to catch it with one hand. "I'll be gentle." He smiled. The staff moved with a flourish, illustrating he was not unknown to this weapon either.

"Did you train him?" Eiryn began to say, and Hasphat shook her head.

"I hardly trained him in anything at all. I'd be careful Eiryn." He switched loyalties once recognizing the Dunmer's skill. "He's a sneaky one."

"I prefer the word _sly_ myself." Saber smirked, crouching to move cat-like to see an opening. He waited for the young woman to take the offense, noticing her rush to hit hard and low. Parrying each blow, he was impressed with her natural skill. She certainly carried enough strength in her arms and balance to handle this type of battle. She swung, feinted; barely missed his shoulder, subsequently spun to jab hard down low again. Receiving a thwack to a toe, the elf jumped back and gave her an odd look. "This is your first day with the staff?"

She nodded, waiting for him to recuperate. He eyed the woman warily this time, realizing she was serious with sparring, and had to adjust his skill accordingly. They clashed again, and her blows were in rapid succession, each end of the wood coming dangerously close to breaking his defenses.

"You're better than I thought." He smiled, slamming the length of his weapon hard against the other to shove her backwards a step.

Eiryn took the blow, easily recovered to fall into a defensive stance. "Not bad yourself." She commented with a wink. "You even fight better than you talk."

His eyebrows rose up in surprise at her glib remark, and almost laughed, except she rushed him. Another series of hard blows flew against him. _Ah_, he thought, _the comment was to distract_.

"Where did you learn to fight dirty?" Saber asked her, finding he was getting a little of breath. This was certainly unexpected, but not unwelcome. _So, the girl was a fighter, and a good one. Seems that Caius underestimated her._

She shrugged with conceited air, "Comes natural I guess." The scout rushed again, and movements were fluid. By the grin on her face, the fierceness of each attack, Saber could see she was enjoying herself immensely. If only her father could see her now!

As he was finding himself pushed too close to a wall, he ducked, spun, parried a quick blow too close to his side, and slid back to the center of the room. Now with some space, he took a few more blows, and with an arching sweep, moved to undercut her legs. Eiryn, to his great surprise, jumped clear of his intended end to the match. Once back on her feet, she did the same move, literally brushing him off his feet with a powerful swing, to have him land on his back –hard- on the practice mat. Without hesitation, she was on him, straddling his chest to bring her staff across his neck and hold him there.

Saber lay stunned. What in the name of Oblivion just happened? Her self-satisfied grin was almost infuriating. "Give up?" She snickered at the prone Dunmer.

He was panting hard, catching his breath. "You think its over?" He asked, and was able to lift both legs behind her to grappled her by the upper torso with his feet and flip her on her back to the mat. He simply needed to roll forward and pin her beneath him, enjoying the befuddled look on her face.

"That's cheating!" She huffed.

He laughed, his face inches from hers. "Now you have to say it."

"Say what?" Eiryn feigned anger but the creases near her eyes gave away her trying hard not to break out in laugher.

"Say I won."

"You most certainly did not!" She exclaimed, squirming beneath him. Of course, she couldn't use the same method of using feet against him, because he'd laid the length of his body over hers. She glared up as Hasphat who was laughing hard and slapping his knee. "Tell him! He cheated! You saw!"

Hasphat could barely talk from laughing so hard. "I'm staying out of it!" He wheezed.

Unable to hold her mirth, she laughed as well, but squirmed to try to get free. "Get off me, you S'wit." She grunted.

"You'll hit me." Saber said not sure how he was going to let her go without retaliation now.

With renewed force, she managed to throw him off, but this time knew her opponent's weakness and mercilessly tickled him. Saber nearly shrieked, trying to fend off the sadistic woman. "Hasphat! Get her off me!" He yelled over the drillmaster's howl of laughter. "For pity's sake!"

"You're on your own, Dunmer." He said, taking a seat on a stool to sip from a water jug and enjoy the show.

Saber knew he was outmatched. "Alright! Alright! You won! I give up!" He shouted, thankfully the woman moved to get off of him. He gasped air, ribs hurting from laughing so hard.

"That's better." She got to her feet, smiling too smug. Eiryn watched, as Saber seemed to still hold distrust in her, backing away anticipating another attack. "I don't ever want to hear you say anything about my skills."

He nodded, backing up. "I would never dare!" He said too quickly.

The trainer was wiping tears from his eyes, still wheezing. "Ah you two. I haven't laughed that hard in years." He sighed. "Eiryn, you're done for the day. I will see you tomorrow."

Using her foot the very same way Saber had done to kick the staff to her hand, she mastered it easily. "See you tomorrow." She grinned, strutting out to head back to the Eight Plates.

Eiryn found the week to be one of the most pleasant vacations she'd spent with anyone. Saber proved to be content to keep himself busy elsewhere through the day as she remained training with Hasphat, even managing time with Marayn to complete mastering some of the spells he meant to teach her. While at night, Saber devoted uninterrupted and focused attention upon her.

He hinted at his training with the thieves guild, which she could only guess, was at the South Wall Corner Pub. His skills were apparently paying off; for he managed to constistantly carry a heavy purse of gold. She knew Caius had given him perhaps half the amount. Not wishing to ask where he was getting his money, she enjoyed the benefits of trips to the bathhouse, card games at the Council Club, and much to delight, a sudden request to go shopping.

"Shopping?" She asked when he suggested over breakfast one morning they ate at the Eight Plates. "For supplies?" They would leave for Fort Buckmoth the next day. Her training was finished, as much as she could that is considering she'd had the week, and ready for travel.

"I already have most of what we need." The Dunmer told her with a roguish grin. "I was thinking some light armor, new weapons, that sort of thing."

"For me?" She blinked in surprise. He was already outfitted, she noted, and always kept his gear in topmost condition.

"I'd feel better if you had some reliable blade by your side, even if you don't know how to use it." He winked, "And some armor protection wouldn't hurt either. I can't have any scout of mine scratched up, or even ill-supplied on my journey."

Eager to see what he had in mind, she hurried to finish her meal and they were well on their way to the bustling marketplace. Saber still seemed to endless supply of coin, but Eiryn refused to worry about it. If he wanted to lavish his coin on her, she was more than happy to oblige.

He bought some dependable leather armor for her wear over some fresh clothes. Colors remained deep greens and browns, and the armor was a deep tanned guar hide to cover chest, upper arms, and thighs. The soft leather moved with her body, providing added protection without hindering movement. A pair of boots matched the cuirass, and Saber insisted she get a pair of reliable gloves as well. He even bought her a splendid new staff, made of ironwood with steel ends to add strength and power. They made sure to stop and have their bows and fletching checked for wear, and his sword sharpened. As they waited for the armoror to finish the task, Saber presented her with a short sword, but this one edged in silver, and enchanted.

Eiryn received the weapon with a sigh of awe. It was a dainty blade, with new steel and the hilt of silver and leather wrapping. The balance was like silk, and her palm tingled when she withdrew it from its equally well-made sheath. It must have cost him a fortune, but her manners reined her asking him about it in check. "Its beautiful." She murmured.

"Its not powerful." Saber told her, touching one of the deep green stones set into the hilt, indicating the magic. "But it slides through armor readily enough."

She watched him reach into a pocket, and extend his hand back out with palm out. Within his hand, a tiny ring glistened in the sunlight of the marketplace. "What's this?"

"A ring." He said with a smile. "I found it at the Urshilaku burial tomb off a dead adventurer."

She made a face, and then laughed. "Picking things off the dead bodies, Saber?"

He chuckled. "Well he wouldn't use it anymore, and I had Galbedir at the mage's guild look at it. It's a ring of Recall."

"A what?"

He took her hand, slipping the exquisite ring on her indent finger fitting perfectly. "You can teleport out of trouble, where ever you've marked your position." He seemed pleased the way it looked on her. "I can set a position for you where ever you want, and if you get into serious trouble, you use the ring to teleport there." The Dunmer wiggling his long fingers at her "Doesn't fit on my hand."

"Ah, that's why you've given it me." She said, still admiring the glisten of sparkled off the smooth opal. "And here I thought you loved me."

She meant it only as a joke, but her words caused him to stop short, turn back. For a brief moment he looked at her oddly, then slowly wrapped arms around her waist to draw her close against him. "Ah that I do." He whispered, touching lips gently against hers.

Stunned, the young Breton nearly fainted from the shock. Deepening the kiss, she put arms around his neck, never wanting to let go. Soon however, footsteps sounded too close and the gruff voice of the city guard gave a quick cough, and adding. "Move along."

Laughing, Eiryn drew back to take his hand and lead him towards the strider port, feeling as though if she wanted to, she could fly the entire way to Buckmoth.

Fort Buckmoth was like any of the Imperial garrison, made of stone block, squared with towers to each corner, and amid the Ashland hills, the garrison appeared stark and lifeless. Eiryn winced at the lack of foliage and desolate landscape, broken only by the gray stone of the fortress' walls.

"At least in Ald Ruhn the houses look better." She commented. Which was true. The dome huts handled the severe ash storms, and broke the monotony of the bleak land, and even bore more color than what they walked up to here.

A loud squawk came from above, with a flutter of wings. Eiryn instinctively turned and in one fluid motion drew an arrow from her quiver, knocked the bow she kept ready in hand, and shot with splendid marksman to the Cliffracer bearing down on them.

Saber watched the winged beast bearing a nasty hooked tail float to the ground to land in a puff of ash. He hadn't even drawn his sword, as if perfectly confident in her abilities to handle the creature. "Show off." He said with a straight face.

Draping her bow across shoulders, Eiryn jaunted back on the path up to the fort with a swagger in her walk. Saber chuckled, following behind.

Their arrival to the fort brought them before Raesa Pullia, a Champion of the Imperial Legion. Her features were sharp, too well defined to be considered pretty. One might even see her as a young man, save no facial hair. Brows were heavy, pulled together in a permanent scowl, and lips too thin for her face drew into a severe frown.

"Caius sent you?" She asked Saber, not even bothering to acknowledge his scout. "I understand you're to handle the Sixth House base in Gnaar Mok?"

Saber returned the dark expression, "I am."

The woman shifted, straightening the chainmail under her arm, and brushing a lock of brown hair escaping from under her steel helm. "Only one trooper returned." She explained when asked about the lost patrol. "He died soon after, horribly disfigured with Corpus disease, and out of his wits. In his ravings, he spoke of a cavern on the coast- he called it Ilunibi, which is not even on our maps." The grim expression deepened as her story continued. Her words were hurried, illustrating how shaken she was by the story. "The patrol fought with the cultists, and disfigured man-beasts. They had to flee the attackers there were so many, and got lost in the caves. They ran into a half-man creature named Dagoth Gares."

Her voice shook a bit when she spoke, obviously unsettled with seeing one of her men die so horribly. "This Dagoth Gares slew the rest of the patrol, but spared the one trooper. He told him he was being spared so he might tell others that 'the sleeper awakes' and 'the sixth house has risen,' and 'Dagoth Ur is Lord, and I am his priest.' And "all will be One with Him in the Flesh-" Her voice caught, before she coughed and continued.

"Then the trooper wakened outside the caves, and returned here. We couldn't recognize him. He didn't respond to questions…just kept rambling on like a madman until he died."

Now she openly shuddered from the memory. "We didn't even recognize him at first, except for his clothing and armor. The flesh was swollen, covered in growths. His bones were twisted and lost their shape." Her eyes closed, her throat working. "The fort chaplain tried spells and potions, but couldn't cure the disease. The trooper soon died after he reached the fort. I have no idea how fast Corpus kills. It sure wasn't pretty." She shook her head slowly. "We'll all pretty shaken up by it."

Saber and Eiryn exchanged concerned looks, before the Dunmer spoke. "Where can I find this Ilunibi Shrine?"

"Like I said, it's not on any of the maps, but if you go to Gnaar Mok, you can take the Balmora Road there. Ask around there. The local might know more about it."


	13. Ch 13 Sixth House Base

"Not much to look at, is it?" Saber asked his scout as they arrived in the small village known as Gnaar Mok. It was a tiny fishing village, modest in size and bearing very little in the way of supplies or a place to stay. A handful of square huts with thatched roofs huddled near the shoreline, and a short dock was built for the scant few fishing boats. Atop a near hill, an impressive manor stood tall and proud watching over those below.

Eiryn found the lush wetland surrounding the area to be a direct contrast to the drab Ashland region they had just arrived from. The air with thick with the smell of growing things, being the area was pretty much shoreline and marsh. "Plenty of fish though." She grinned, hoping to remain optimistic.

"That would just as soon eat you." Saber retorted in disgust. He hated the horrid Slaughterfish known to swim close to shores. They were all scales and teeth, with ferocious demeanors and attacked anyone on sight. Some were the length of a man's leg, and could just as easily snap a limb off. Being that Saber enjoyed at least an attempt at staying clean on his journeys, he could hardly bathe in any the rivers or shorelines in the lands of Morrowind for fear of losing an appendage, perhaps even _important_ appendages.

As they made their way down a sloping hill into the heart of the tiny village, Saber paused to ask a local wood elf of this Ilunibi shrine. The Bosmer paused, startled at being stopped and asked of such a thing.

"Ilunibi, by the graces, why would you want to know where that was?" He gasped, dark eyes blinking in panic. The ragged shirt and pants indicated he was a commoner, perhaps one of the fishermen in the village. Hair was tied back from his heart-shaped face, with what seemed to be permenant grimw worked into his face.

"Do you know where it is?" Saber asked, pretending to pull three gold coins out of the elf's pointed left ear. The dark eyes sparkled in greed. Tiny hands moved to snatch the shiny coins, only to have them pulled out of reach by the much taller Dunmer. "Ilunibi…where is it?"

"That's a neat trick." The Bosmer grinned, "Ilunibi Caverns. That's what they call the old sea cave up on the north end of the island, right on Khartag Point. Don't poke around in there. It's a convenient smuggler's hole, and they might not welcome visitors." He hopped again, eager to catch the coins from being dangled so close and yet so far from his nose.

Saber tossed them, not at all surprised to see the agile elf snatch them out of the air. "We go North." He smiled at Eiryn, heading outside of the small hamlet into the 'wilds'.

She shook her head in disbelief, "Nothing is ever simple with you, is it?"

The Dunmer grinned boyishly, "Oh that was the simple enough." He assured her, easily finding the road to which would lead them to their goal "But I don't have so many coins now." He shook his coin pouch to illustrate how low on resources he'd become.

"Well I suppose you can always pull them out of people ears if we get desperate." She teased, wanting to learn that slight-of-hand trick. Somehow she doubted her short fingers could tackle the graceful movements. Almost throwing his skill at her face, the Dark Elf pulled another coin out of her 'ear', and then easily flipped the gold between the fingers of one hand.

She watched the coin dance between knuckles, mesmerized at his dexterity. "Maybe perform for crowds for coin?" She offered with a laugh.

He tossed the coin up, now showing off, catching it again in the air to show now two coins in the palm of his hand. With a flourish of fingers, they literally 'disappeared' before her eyes. He winked. "And steal their gold from their pockets when no one is watching." His other hand lifted up a familiar coin pouch, tossing it back to her.

Recognizing the purse as her own, Eiryn gaped in amazement wondering how he managed to pull it off her belt without her even feeling it.. "Hey! How did-" She never got to finish the sentence. In mere moments, she realized Saber lost all mischief in his face, and stared looking behind her in with an odd expression of surprise and confusion.

Turning slightly to see what he was staring at, she felt Saber's hand reach out, and forcibly shove her to the side, just as some crazed Dunmer came up from behind with a spiked club in hand. She'd never even heard the man coming, and knew immediately it was a Dreamer, one of the demented Sixth House cultists known to kill any and all foreigners they encountered.

The club swung from above, braising her arm as pain exploded on her shoulder, and Eiryn fell to the side. Saber managed to grab the man's attacking wrist to use the aggressive force of the man's body against him, to spin in low, and flat on his back with a foot to assist in the fall. The Dark Elf looked stunned, red eyes white rimmed and staring in surprise at the other Dunmer. His hair had once been tied neatly behind his head, stained red and coifed with leather at the end of two braids. Now the hair had worked lose, tangled and unkempt with bracken snarled in his hair from sleeping on the ground, with dirt crusting his skin bare to the waist.

"The Hour of Awakening is at hand!" The Dunmer cried, yanking the spiked club to charge another assault. Saber refused to relent his grip on the man's wrist. The Dreamer bared teeth, "He comes forth in his glory, and his people shall rejoice, and his enemies shall scatter like dust."

Saber frowned, unsettled by his madness. "Who?"

"Lord Dagoth!" The dreamer shrieked back in answer, and kicking with full force, sending Saber back away from him. He gripped his club, returning to head straight for Eiryn stll on the ground. She clutched her wounded shoulder, sick and dizzy in pain and saw the madman bearing down on her.

Bracing for another blow, she closed her eyes and cringed, but the blow never came. A horrible gargling sound caused her to open eyes, to find Saber had since grabbed the man from behind, slitting his throat open with a dagger. The Dreamer stared out with wild eyes, the mouth agape and spitting blood.

Slumping forward, he dropped to his knees, before falling forward to die.

"Eiryn…" Saber rushed to her side, inspecting the wound to her shoulder. The gaping wound would require stitches, and he feared something might have been broken. "Are you alright?"

She swallowed hard against bile, sickened by the severity of the wound, and the fact it could've just as well been her head. "Cursed Dreamers." She muttered angrily. The pain was nothing compared to the knowledge this was a setback. She'd need healing, and quickly. Even the potion Saber brought to her lips would not be enough if a bone were shattered.

Saber touched her hand, fingering the ring on her finger. "I've set this for the Temple in Balmora." He told her grimly.

All the way back to Balmora? Gnaar Mok would offer nothing in healing or help. She winced feeling sick, and also cold. Damn, she thought, recognizing it was from blood loss. Eiryn felt her companion brush her cheek. "You don't have much time."

No, she didn't. She'd faint soon if not bleed to death. He'd have to walk all the way back to Balmora…Tears filled her eyes from frustration. "Go then." She muttered, furious with her rotten luck. She squeezed his hand. "Finish with Gares, and come back to Balmora."

The Dunmer was startled. "Are you sure?"

She paused, almost sobbing with the thought he'd consider actually waiting for her. He already waited a week, had her trained, and now was willing to put his quest off for a longer time. "Just kiss me, and go." She told him, feeling his warm mouth on hers and the gentlest of touches to her cheek.

Gathering her focus, she tuned into the magicked ring, and with a whoosh of air, and sensation of tiny feathers covering her skin, she found herself on the floor of the Balmora Temple. A priest was startled seeing someone appear from nowhere, but only seconds realized her dire need of help.

"Quickly! Someone get a Healer!" He cried, rushing to her side.

Saber still knelt on the road, feeling alone as Eiryn disappeared in a puff. He took solace she would get the best help and rest she'd need for the wounds. She'll be fine, he told himself. The wound was bad, but not severe now that she'd get the best healing at the Temple. That was the very reason why he gave her the ring. He knew as long as she was conscious she'd get help or even escape trouble.

Steadying his nerve, he continued his way northward to the island at Khartag Point. The sooner he found this cult base, the sooner he would head back to Balmora. Keeping senses sharp, he avoided several wild guar, and found the entrance to this Sixth House base off the coast on a small obscure island. Now facing what Caius considered a true challenge, the Dunmer double checked his armor and sword out of habit, making certain that nothing jingled when he moved, and drew up his focus to cast a spell that would provide a bit more protection than the leather he wore.

With all the skills of a thief, he took knowledge that he was the assassin for this mission. Ironic, was it not? Caius hated him for being trained to do this very thing. He was to kill this priest, Dagoth Gares. Not that Saber found the task distasteful. Everything about the Sixth House was an abomination against all of mankind. The Sixth House had created so many of the undead, the crazed Dreamers, and that horrid Corpus disease.

Some dark memory stirred within the Dark Elf as he entered the cave, memories of what Nekros had taught him as a boy.

_Darkness is both friend and enemy_…Nekros had told him once. _Within the shadows one can find the prey but also other predators_. So true this was. Other sometimes even more deadly craetures than an assassin might be waiting at any corner. Here was no different. Saber felt senses sharpen in the lightless cavern, surprised at the vast size of the underground. He slipped past a scamp gnawing on something that looked like a bone, and used levitation to glide above an unknowing Dreamer muttering prayers at a makeshift altar. Lost in its rantings, the man barely felt the dagger slip into the brain. Silent the man slumped over dead.

A guilty thought prodded Saber as he realized this particular quest was best Eiryn had returned after all. If he had to fight his way through the number of beasts he was discovering, they might not have made it out alive. Not that he'd tell her that! Perhaps training her in stealth might not be such a bad idea…

Using the shadows to his best advantage, the thief moved slowly but steadily through the maze of caverns, glad to have the night vision of his race. More than the undead resided here in the caves. A torch would be nothing more than a beacon to any of these creatures, leaving him exposed to too many opponents.

Saber held his breath as something grunted, shuffling feet and emitting a bone-chilling groan. A corpus beast- Saber simply slid aside the wide cavern, hoping to not alert the creature to his location until the right time. It was a ghastly atrocity of what was once a man, with pallid flesh abnormally misshapen into growths. The head no longer had anything of a neck, with the face nothing more than deep sockets and a torn mouth with jagged teeth.

Hair had long since fallen off, as had ears, the nose, and some of the fingers and toes. Saber felt bile rise up in the back of his throat, sickened at being so close to the thing, and also found the smell of rotting meat overwhelming. He pushed thoughts away that perhaps this horrid creature might have eaten part itself, and by its crazed look in the almost non-existent eyes, told the Dark Elf that it would feed on anything- alive or dead- to supply its wild hunger.

Drawing out his sword with nothing more than a whisper of steel, Saber waited until the beast was almost upon him. He knew to strike at what he could find as the brain, to kill it as quickly as possible or risk catching Corpus himself.

Almost,….He thought…his body was tense ready to pounce…the creature drew closer. Exploding into action, Saber jabbed as hard and fast as muscles would allow, striking to where the brain would be located at the 'head' which appeared to be mostly shoulders drawn up about the skull. It grunted, uncaring of the attack, only concerned with the fresh meat. It swung a heavy arm no longer bearing any fingers, and moved with clumbsy thrashing. Slow or not, the brute strength was very clear as it missed, sending splintering rock to scatter on the floor. Saber ducked, spun, and landing the point of his sword straight into the things face.

It paused, an eye blinking in surprise at it stared back at him, and the ragged bloody lips drew back from teeth in a parody of a smile.

Oh gods…Saber grimaced, ready for retaliation, but it thankfully never came. The beast simply toppled over to expire. Only then, did Saber turn to empty the contents of his stomach.

_Gods help me if I ever get Corpus_- He thought …_just kill me._

Eiryn was finally relieved of pain, but now lay in a stupor on the small cot the Temple provided her. Her shoulder was wrapped in bandages to keep the bones set, and the priest had told her on no uncertain terms she was remain very still to let the potions and spells do their work at repairing the damage.

Bored, the young Breton stared at the ceiling, seeing the same drab brown adobe as the rest of the Temple was built. Their décor was simple, having neither frescos nor paintings on the colorless walls. Even blankets and the handful of tapestries were nothing more than varying shades of dull brown. Apparently, the Temple focused more on dedicated their time to the Almsivi, than anything for vanity.

The Almsivi were the three gods of the Tribunal known as Vivec, Almalexia, and Sotha Sil. They were literally 'living gods' who once were mortal, but now ruled with immortal divinity. Eiryn never considered herself very religious to any of the religion of the Empire let alone Morrowind. Worshipping those who were once mortals seemed pointless. Her reverence proved nothing of their blessing or of their wrath for that matter. Vivec lived in the holy city named after him, also known as the Poet and Patron of the Arts. Almalexia lived in the city of Mournhold with Sotha Sil, so here in Morrowind, Lord Vivec ruled with the High Council.

For all that, the Temple provided many services. You never found beggars or starving, for they could always turn to the Temple for help. Priests and priestesses also served by providing healing, education, and good acts to anyone who asked for it. Even her healing she received was all in service of the Almsivi.

"Eiryn?" A soft voice interrupted her thoughts, and when the young Breton looked to the open doorway, she saw Caius standing with a concerned look on his weathered face.

Shocked to see him, she tried to move but remembered what the priest had told her. Her father moved forward, shaking his head. "Don't trouble yourself." He said softly, "I've been warned to not upset you, and I know you need your rest-"

"Why are you here?" Eiryn asked, fearing another lecture or reprimand.

"Only to talk." The spymaster said. Moving closer, he motioned to a nearby chair, asking permission to sit with her. She nodded, still wary. "So I hear you were attacked by a Dreamer."

Eiryn looked away, feeling sullen and pouty. Her father was right. She was useless on quests. For all the training she'd received and the weapons given to her, she hadn't fought back did she? "Didn't even go near the Sixth House base, so you should be happy with that."

"Saber was taking you to the Sixth Base?" Caius scowled, who had pointedly told him not to.

Eiryn said nothing, letting the silence remain thick with tension. _Go ahead…say it, lecture me on Saber now_...She thought.

"Hasphat tells me you're pretty good with a quarter staff." Her father switched the topic away from the Dunmer. Was that pride in his voice now? The creases around his eyes deepened as the old man smiled at her. "He even admitted to me you gave him a run for his money. That's no easy thing for Hasphat to confess."

"I beat Saber as well." She murmured, looking away. It was a petty method of provoking him, trying to get him to do his lecture and leave.

"You beat Saber?" His doubt was thick in his voice. "So Hasphat told me, though I was led to believe it was more of a draw."

"He cheated.

"Who?"  
"Saber. I had him pinned and he flipped me." She told him.

Despite himself, Caius laughed. "Eiryn, most fights are not going to be fair."

_My father is taking his side?_ She stared at him. "If it had been a real fight, I would've choked the life out of him."

A warm hand patted her own, tentative at first. "Please don't think I am not impressed." He told her with all seriousness. "Saber is very well trained. The very fact you took him off his feet says quite a bit about your skill."

"It was his idea."

"What was?"

"It was Saber's idea I take training with Hasphat." She told him. Now feeling a bit cocky, she decided it best to lay her cards on the table. "He waited a week for me to finish some training before we left."

His gray eyes shifted away, and the thin lips pursed together. "He seems to care more about you than I thought." He murmured, clearly not happy about it.

"He gave me this." Eiryn said, lifting her hand to show him the ring. She knew exactly the thoughts passing through her father's mind at seeing the trinket, and quickly added. "It's a ring of recall. That's how I got to the Temple."

The eyes brightened, widening in surprise. "He gave you that? To protect you?"

"To protect myself." She corrected, feeling old defenses beginning to build back up around her. "As he'd supplied me with armor, new weapons, even an enchanted sword." All of which, she refused to add, proved futile in regard to the sneak attack of the Dreamer. "And he was the one that pushed me out of the way of the Dreamer, of which I would have been clubbed in the head, instead of the shoulder."

He took notice of her reaction, sighed heavily in defeat. For several long moments he contemplated her words. "Saber told me you were capable…that you didn't need to be kept safe. He called me a fool, and he was right."

Eiryn was too taken aback to speak. Did she hear him correctly? Was he under the influence of his 'sugar'? What else did Saber tell her father?

The spymaster rubbed his face, scratching stubble. "He told me if I was going to be stubborn…I might lose you." Something choked off the last part of his sentence, and his face suddenly twisted into one of anguish. Only then, Eiryn realized he'd been trying very hard to hold it together as he visited her. "And I shudder at the thought. Considering you nearly got killed-" His voice choked again until he gathered his pride once more. "I've been so stupid, Eiryn-" He took her hand, held it as if were the most precious thing in the world. "With all my efforts of keeping you safe, I became negligent of my duty to you as your guildmaster. I should've made sure you had everything to take care of yourself, not shelter you from danger. Saber was right, I am an old fool."

Eiryn felt a powerful surge of emotion threaten to strangle her, but she coughed lightly, gripped the hand that held hers. How difficult it must be for this proud man to come here and tell her all this! "And Saber?"

His eyes were moist, and his throat worked when he swallowed. "Perhaps I was wrong about him too."

_Perhaps!_ Eiryn held back a smart aleck response, knowing she already got far more than the man could handle. Uncertain to what to say to his admission, she let several long minutes of silence fall between them. He thought I was going to die… she discovered, realizing how it must be like for him each time she went off on a quest. No wonder he tried to protect her!

"Can I still be in the Blades then?" She asked, her voice was small, and too late she realized she was using the same 'little girl' voice she'd used in the past to ask her father for something.

Caius laughed despite himself, also recognizing the familiar voice. "Saber will need all the help he can get, don't you agree?" He smiled. The spymaster straightened, shaking off his mood, and patted her lightly on the hand. "You get your rest. Saber will be back soon I hope, and we'll see what is next for us, alright?"

Nodding, Eiryn smiled, relieved and close to overwhelmed that after a lifetime of wanting his approval and also understanding, she finally received both in one day. She had Saber that she loved dearly, and things were looking as though all of Morrowind could be seeing a brighter future.

The maze of caverns and tunnels was disheartening to the Dunmer, who paused to get his bearings, and listen to the darkness ahead. Bodies of ghouls and vile creatures littered the tunnels behind him. His arm ached from his efforts, and in the near pitch black, Saber could not even tell if the wetness he felt clinging to his clothes was blood of his opponents or his own.

Taking a vial of healing potion, he felt his limbs tingle as if waking and strengthening for any battles ahead. Hopefully he was nearing the end of this wretched mission. Maybe he could talk Eiryn in giving him a back massage upon his return to Balmora…

He set his ear to the door before him, listening again and finding that of course the chamber ahead had more in store for him. Mutterings of Dreamers could be heard beyond the portal, though he couldn't tell how many. _Playtime_… he smiled to himself.

As night vision adjusted to the eerie gloom of the next chamber, Saber discovered he'd finally reached what must be the center of the Sixth House Base. Here he could make out the sinister chantry bearing the small red statues with Daedric writing, and incense smelling of brimstone and ash. The wreaking smoke wisped above several altars in the widening chamber, and Saber could make the outlines of several Dreamers knelt in prayer.

Gripping a dagger's hilt, Saber was able to throw with precise accuracy to the back of one, releasing another dagger to end the life of the second even before he turned.

_I haven't lost my touch…._ Saber smirked. The smile soon faded as something dark moved into the red-glow of the room, and the putrid face of Dagoth Gares bore down on him. That is, what he thought was the face, being the creature seemed to not have eyes, or nose, or even mouth. Instead, where the face might have been once, a bizarre proboscis extended out, twitching and sniffing the air. Was this what Dagoth Ur created as one of his followers? Saber found he couldn't forgive an immortal that could so twist a creature as what he saw before him now. The instinct to simply kill the creature to end its misery bore to mind, and Saber gripped his sword in defense.

A wheezing chuckle emitted from the odd creature, as it shuffled forward to greet him. "The Sixth House greets you, Lord Nerevar." It said, giving a mocking bow towards Saber. He stared in horror; even more stunned how he was being addressed by an identity he was supposed to be faking. _Lord Neverar…?_ Perhaps this was only mocking him. It gargled again another laugh. "Or Saber, as you call yourself. I am known as Dagoth Gares, priest of Ilunibi Shrine, and minister to Sixth House servants."

The being was not attacking, and Saber was left standing to feel the full shock of hearing himself be addressed by name. "How do you know me?" he asked.

The horror gave an exaggerated bow, and when it spoke, the voice raked across nerves for it sounded half gargling on mucus or spitting. "My Lord, Dagoth Ur, has informed me of your coming. I wish that this time you had come to honor your Lord's friendship, not to betray it." The being was relaxed, not attacking but wishing to exchange words…for now. "Forgive the rude welcome, but until you have declared for us, we must treat you as our enemy. The Sleepers and Dreamers are newly come to Lord Dagoth, and not yet blessed with his power. But the Children of His Flesh, they are deep in the heart of his mysteries. Their bodies swell to contain his glory, and to yield the rich sacraments of our Lord's feasts. And we are the least of his servants, for Ash Poets, Ascended Sleepers, and Ash Vampires stand high above us in the Lord's bountiful grace."

"Dagoth Ur is the Awakened Lord of the Sixth House," Dagoth Gares continued to rant. "Come to cast down false gods, drive foreigners from the land, and restore the ancient glory of Morrowind. He bids you come to Red Mountain. For the friendship and honor that once you shared, he would grant you counsel and power, if only you would pledge that friendship anew. The path to Red Mountain is long, and filled with danger, but if you are worthy, you will find there wisdom, a firm friend, and all the power you need to set the world aright."

_An offer to join them?_ This was unexpected. Saber paused, uncertain if this not some trick to deter him. Saber refused to speak as he considered the priests words. Gares persisted with his discourse. "Lord Dagoth would far rather have you as a friend than as an enemy. But until you submit to him, Sixth House servants will treat you as an enemy, and try to destroy you. If you wish to be our friend, first you must go to Lord Dagoth in his citadel on Red Mountain, and make your submission."

_Submit…?_ _To Dagoth?_ He must be joking. It was bad enough he was wrapped up into this mess with the Emperor and the Blades. Now the Sixth House offered him a position of power? For only the briefest of moments, Saber considered possibilities. Dagoth had once been a loyal friend to Lord Neverar, given the tools of Kragnanc for safekeeping but fell to their temptation and made himself into a god. Saber could hardly blame him for feeling betrayed, or even wanting to drive out the Imperials from the Dunmer homeland. But what stood before him now went against everything Saber could want from a god. The followers of House Dagoth were cursed beings, most of which hardly bore any semblance of who they were in former lives. This was what Dagoth had to offer? Revolted, the Dunmer took a step forward, but the priest lifted a hand to stay his advance.

"Lord Dagoth gives me these words to say to you, so you may give them thought." Dagoth Gares spoke with authority now, repeating the message as he'd been instructed. "'Once we were friends and brothers, Lord Nerevar, in peace and in war. Yet beneath Red Mountain, you struck me down as I guarded the treasure you bound me by oath to defend. But, remembering our old friendship, I would forgive you, and raise you high in my service.'"

Saber looked down at his bloodied sword, then back to the priest. "You want my answer?" He smiled suddenly advancing quickly. There was no doubt of his reply as the blade swung high, and all the disgust in meeting the Sixth House creatures, Saber wanted nothing more to destroy them all, to end their misery, and more importantly, to end the horrors the Sixth House was promising for all of Morrowind.

Naturally the priest recoiled, lifting claw-like hands to throw a blast of fire towards the Dunmer who easily jumped up with the added lift of levitation to avoid the spellwoven flames, flipping in the air to land behind the priest. Another swing of the enchanted sword, and the slice cut through the robe and pallid flesh.

Gares shrieked, falling to his knees, coughing…no, he was laughing. Saber stepped back, unsettled by such a reaction of one facing his demise. The priest clutched its chest where blood spilled out too quickly before slumping forward, still writhing in what remained of his life. "Even as my Master wills, you shall come to him, in his flesh, and of his flesh.' The priest wheezed, coughing again his odd laugh, and suddenly Saber felt a wave of something horrid hitting him square knocking him back three feet to lay stunned on his back.

_What in the name of Oblivion…?_

At first Saber felt he might have had his breath knocked out, but as air filled lungs, and limbs tingled with the sensation of a thousand spiders nipping upon flesh, he simply knew….Dagoth Gares cursed him with his dying breath with Corpus!


	14. Ch 14 Tel Fyr

_Something's wrong_…Eiryn thought, pulling on a new tunic to replace her torn bloody one. Even her father had not come today, but then he might be busy with the countless other missions and schemes of the Emperor. Eiryn only began to worry when she realized her stay at the Temple had stretched into two long days, and still no word from Saber had reached her.

Thanking the priests for what they did for her, and giving a fair donation, she hurried to reach Caius' for news on the Dunmer. When she knocked there was a pause, and the door opened to a grim faced spymaster. Caius swallowed hard, his eyes bleary as if he just woken up. "Eiryn… How are you feeling?"

The young woman frowned, looking past him to see if anyone else was within but the scant apartment was empty. His question was asked, but clearly the spymaster had something else other than her well being heavy on his mind. "Has Saber made it back?" She asked, Caius motioned for to enter, and the very shadow of mood he bore nearly caused her to panic. "What is it? What happened?" She demanded, her voice now rising. "Did Saber make it back?"

"Eiryn…" He said, motioning for her to sit. "Saber returned this morning-"

She felt relief so intense she nearly fell. _He's alive!_ "Where is he?" Then the panic rose once more, for her father remained entirely too somber and the gray eyes staring at her with daunting news.

The man wet lips nervously, sitting also to rub a hand down his face in agitation. "He found the base, destroyed Dagoth Gares…" The spymaster told her. Why is he upset? If Saber made it, accomplished the mission? "But something happened-"

Eiryn felt a rush of ice fill her veins. "Caius…where is Saber?"

"I've sent him to Divayth Fyr." He told her directly, eyes never left her face as he let this news sink in.

"To Tel Fyr…" She scowled, wondering what has an ancient wizard have to do with anything. "He went without me?" Why would he go there?

Caius matched her scowl, "Eiryn," His voice lowered, "I sent him there…" A sigh blew past his tense lips. "To the Corprusarium."

The young woman remained very still. "But he could get corpus…" She said slowly. Only those with Corpus were sent there, and no one was allowed into the actual Corprusarium due to the highly contagious disease. The wizard, Divayth Fyr, was known to be studying the 'divine disease', trying to find a cure.

Her father sat very still, eyes so filled with despair as he weighed the news he needed to give her. "Eiryn," Caius said softly, "He already has it."

Her throat closed up, and it was hard to swallow, and her head began to shake a negative. "No…I just saw him…He'd never put himself in that kind of danger." He hated Corpus. He'd rather die- She stood up, unable to remain in the tiny room, and instinctively moved to leave. She needed to go to him, to find him, even if it meant traveling all the way to Tel Fry- A hand grabbed her arm, spun her back to face him.

"No, Eiryn. You can't go." Her father told her sternly.

Trying to shake him off, a brief struggle ensued. Not this again! Caius could not tell her what to do. How could he even think he could protect her from this!

"I have to go see him. He needs my help-" She said finding he grabbed her other arm, forcing her to face him, to face reality.

"He doesn't want you to see him like this!" Caius told her firmly, subsequently giving her a shake to get through her disbelief. "He told me _specifically_ you are _not_ to go… do you hear me? Saber doesn't want you there. Trust me, you do not want to see him!"

Eiryn felt eyes grow hot, as the thought of his suffering the horrid curse sprang to her mind. His body would twist, flesh would spurt growths, and he'd go mad! The story the woman at Fort Buckmoth told also came to mind. Sudden tears spilled down her cheeks. "No!" She sobbed, still struggling. "Please- I have to see him!" No, it can't be true. This was a joke. If he had Corpus… he was going to die, and to die horribly-

With affection she never thought possible of her father, he simply grabbed her up into a fierce hug, letting her bury her face against his shoulder to sob uncontrollably. She tried to resist, but anguish and his strong arms were too much to struggle against. A hand stroked her hair, hoping to calm her fears. "I'm told Divayth Fyr is trying to find a cure, Eiryn. I have hope. Please," His voice broke before he swallowed and continued. "Please do as he asks."

Defeated, Eiryn clung to him and simply sobbed her loss. Caius was trying to comfort her fears, to have her believe everything will be all right in the end. The spymaster continued to spout promises he couldn't possibly keep, but she knew his intention was to make her feel better, to have some hope of the impossible.

"I don't know what I will do if I lose him…" She whispered.

"I know." Caius murmured back.

It took all the remaining magic he had for Saber to reach the Corprusarium on the small island called Tel Fry. Levitating and water walking were really the only means between the islands unless you swam or took a boat. Except, with being contagious with Corpus, no one could go near him, not even to talk to the infected Dunmer let alone provide him a boat.

Here on the tiny atoll, there were no villages, no huts, only the tall imposing tower of the renowned wizard, Divayth Fyr. It was said he was over 4,000 years old, with powerful magicks and he'd gathered considerable knowledge of centuries of study. All wizards had their hobby, and for Divayth Fry, it was Corpus. He studied it, tried to manipulate it, understand it, but more importantly cure it. Of anyone in Morrowind or perhaps anyone in the world would know of this disease, it would be this wizard.

Saber clenched fists, no longer able to feel the fingertips. He could feel his body changing, but slowly and gradually. So far, the dark gray of his skin had lightened only slightly, and the extremities grown numb. Eyes had lost night vision, and he'd grown clumsy, and his mind not as sharp. Thankfully, he was not grotesque, but soon…he could feel his body ready to mutate, and Saber fervently hoped he would find a cure, or find a blade to end his life before he went mad.

The tower loomed above him in the odd Televani architecture of tree mushrooms. Growing to well over four stories high, the plants could be hollowed out and made into impressive home for those that lived and survived in the Televani District, well populated by mages and wizards.

Without even knocking, Saber entered the darkened tunnels of the lower tower, assailed by the strange odor of the mushroom structure. It smelt of earth and fungus, with a lingering scent of death clinging to the air. The tunnel was cramped, seemingly closing in around him, but Saber knew it was the Corpus. A rage, or growing hunger for death was beginning to gnaw at the edges of his consciousness.

He moved forward, startled when a woman approached to greet him.

She was Dunmer, with very pale ash-gray skin and vivid eyes of crimson. Even the whites cast a pinkish hue, with lips a deep wine curling in a semblance of a smile.

"Welcome to Tel Fyr." She said with a melodic tone. "I am Beyte Fry-"

Saber blinked, eyes no longer adjusting well to the change of light. "You are… his wife?"

"Wife to Divayth?" She smiled, with a light laugh. "Yes. Well. Not 'wife' in the 'married' sense. But... you know. 'Paramour.' 'Consort.' It's a bit awkward, really. Because... well... he made us, too, so, though we aren't really his daughters or anything, it's LIKE we were his daughters."

Saber blinked again. "Made you?"

She shrugged, waving her hand to be dismissive. "Myself and my sisters…if you can call them that."

Saber recalled being told once to not let anything the Televani do surprise him. He went to the topic at hand. "Where can I find Divayth Fyr?"

"He's up above in his study." She told him with a graceful tilt of her head and sweep of her hand to a tunnel leading up. "I hope you can fly. You can't get up there unless you can fly. Or have potions. Sorry."

"I'll manage." He mumbled turning away. "Thank you-"

Taking the incline upwards, he went through another of the odd round doors of the tower to find himself in a strange foyer. The walls of the 'mushroom' home were jagged and rounded. The room before him and the rooms to either side showed nothing of the means to reach any higher levels. There were no stairs or ladders to be seen. Just as he turned to get more directions, he looked up to find a round hole in the ceiling.

"Great…" He muttered under his breath.

Where once levitation was child's play to him, now focusing his thoughts was like moving through mud. Concentration took effort, and moving hands that felt almost nothing to form the intricate glyphs to make the spell took ten times the effort it normally would. But at last the satisfying rush and sensation of flight took hold. He lifted to the hole, barely able to keep the spell intact until his feet touched the floor above.

Staggering, Saber threw out his arm to brace himself against a wall. This was ridiculous! Anger swelled, and the Dark Elf felt a rush of bloodlust flow through his veins. No…it was the Corpus, not any normal reaction from him. No wonder they cast the wretched victims of Corpus here, away from others. Gritting teeth, he looked around the claustrophobic tunnels, until he finally faced a much older Dunmer.

The man turned, eyeing him a measuring gaze. He bore the same vivid red eyes as his 'daughter', the same gentle curve of the mouth, high cheeks with smooth forehead. This could be none other than Divayth Fyr himself. His hair was uncharacteristically streaked with gray in the black, all drawn back from his distinguished face. Long dark blue robes flowed with his every move, and jewels donned fingers, his neck, and an elongated ear.

"Ah," He sighed with a voice that almost lulls one into a calmness. "Let me guess...? You are either here to plunder the dungeon, or you've contracted Corpus."

Saber glared, not at all liking the man's dismissive carriage. "Caius sent me." He told him.

The Dunmer nodded slowly, motioning for him to step forward. "Yes… you are the one they call Saber?" His features grimaced, showing what he thought of the name. "Yes, I see. You definitely have the early stages." The red-glow of his eyes flittered across Saber's, assessing the impact of the disease. "The magical principles of Corpus disease are elusive and miraculous," He continued, stepping up to place hands under Saber's chin to lift his face for closer inspection. The thumbs drew back the lower eyelids, as the wizard continued his words, "It's far more subtle and powerful than any conventional sorcery or enchantment. I'm persuaded that it is in some manner the curse or blessing of a god. Perhaps both a curse and a blessing. The victim, of course, cannot appreciate the marvelous nature of Corprus. It saps the mind and destroys the body. But to a wizard, it is a profound and glorious mystery, a riddle worth a long lifetime of study."

Finished, Divayth folded his arms, to tap delicate fingers along his chin in thought. "It would seem the disease has chosen to work rather slowly upon you, so time is on your side, my friend. For a time anyway."

"I'm told you may have a potion." Saber said, wary of this Dunmer for he appeared oddly remote about the matter.

"Indeed, yes. I have a potion." He nodded again. "In _theory_ it should cure Corpus. Doesn't work though. Probably kill you."

Saber looked down, knowing this was exactly what he wanted. To be cured or dead. _Anything but this wretched fate_.

Divayth narrowed his eyes, scratched a fingernail along his jaw line in thought. "A small favor is all I ask, and you can have the potion."

"Favor?" Why am I not surprised? Saber thought darkly. Everyone in Morrowind had some agenda, some favor or errand from him.

"Go thru the Corprusarium," The wizard said, idly stroking his smooth shaven chin. "Find a patient of mine by the name of Yagrum Bagarn. Interesting fellow. My oldest patient, has a pair of boots I've given him to repair. The man can repair just about anything. Bring me those boots, and I shall give you the potion."

Saber blinked slowly. "That's it?" There had to be more to it than that.

"Ah yes." Divayth smiled, "Do not harm any of my patients, or I shall kill you where you stand. You see, they are mad. They cannot help what they do, and I will not having you slaughtering those I've sworn to protect. Besides, I need them in my study. Understand?"

"Get the boots, do not kill anyone, and bring them back to you." Saber sighed in frustration. No, nothing was simple was it? He couldn't just give him the potion, could he?

"Exactly." Divayth grinned, which looked oddly out of place on such a face as regal as his.

Another frustrated sigh, and Saber headed back out of his chamber, wondering why he had such rotten luck. Perhaps he'd inquire with the mages' guild on some good luck charm to keep on hand. Moving through the bowels of the tower, he liked this place even less. The Corprusarium was nothing more than a dungeon, built into the island to house the various 'patients' infected with Corpus. Shuffling, half mad creatures lumbered in the darkness to seek out a pathetic living amid others. They were fed, sheltered, and kept contained. Saber had to enter through this nightmare, and find a pair of boots?

Growling under his breath, the Dunmer paused to meet an Argonion warden set with the task of gatekeeper. Argonions were impressive beings. Standing like men, they were reptiliian in all other factors. He was a rigid fellow, with gold slit eyes and a forked tongue that flitted out at his approach.

"I am to see Yagrum." Saber informed the lizard, who gave a low hiss. For all Saber knew of the race, he could have been insulting him or giving him welcome.

"Do not harm any of the inmatessss." The Argonion rasped, jingling keys to open the portcullis. "I will not tolerate you adding to their suffering. They are brutal and fierce, and will kill you if they can, but you are their guests in this domain. Harm them, and you will answer to me."

Saber nodded, not impressed with the threat, and continued into the rancid Corprusarium. The smell alone made him gag, but holding his gloved hand over his face helped with keeping the emanation of the patients at bay. One glance at the bleak existence the inmates lived, and Saber knew he'd slit his own throat before he'd let Corpus take him to this point.

Fortunately, Saber moved quickly enough to simply outrun the shuffling Corpus men. A few moved to attack but simply couldn't keep up, and as long as he kept moving, the thief was confident he could make it out alive. No longer able to use the spells he had, Saber opted with simple brute force, even pushing past the wretched creatures when needed.

He wasn't attacking them, he reasoned, and no harm if they simply shoved out of the way. It wasn't as if he had any concern for catching Corpus, he already had it.

When he entered a spacious cavern, two of the Corpus men shuffled towards him. Saber scowled, looking past them to see he'd reached his destination. An area had been closed off from the Corpus beasts, with an odd …creature?….man?…Saber frowned, not sure what he was seeing.

Whatever it was might have been human, but even then Saber wasn't certain. The thing was bloated, with stumpy arms, sitting atop a bizarre spider-like contraption. The device held up his weight, serving to be legs, the metal ends making metallic clicking sounds as it turned slightly. Pointed ears indicated he might have elven, but then Saber drew closer and found he could not possibly have been of the Altmeri races. His face was thick, bearded with hair grown to his chest, and the open sores and damage from Corpus had worked across the excessive layers of skin this being had. Estimating his size…or what might have been his size, Saber found he was of a race that had long since died out centuries ago.

"Ah…a visitor!" The thing spoke, the voice thick and when lips pulled back, Saber could see the rotted teeth and misshapen tongue. "What brings you to visit Yagrum Bagarn, Master Crafter, and Last Living Dwarf?"

This was the last living Dwarf? Stepping cautiously forward, Saber suspected that this area somehow kept the other Corpus beasts at bay, once he stepped into the roped off area. Too preoccupied with this creature before him, the thief tried to remember what he knew of the Dwarves, how a great war centuries ago had wiped out the race were also known as the Dweemer. They all disappeared on that fateful day Lord Neverar with his army attacked the Dweemer at Red Mountain…centuries ago.

The 'dwarf' if it could still be called that, blinked its eyes at the Dunmer, and chuckled. "Unless you're here for the Dwemer boots? Tell my gracious Keeper that I have done what I could. Only a Dwemer magecrafter could have done so much. But only idiots could have created these boots. It shames my race that we must be judged by the works of such lack-wit blunderers." A pair of boots made of a unrecognizable material were tossed to Saber's feet.

Another voice, soft and alluring spoke behind him. "Perhaps he is too awed of your presence, Yagrum, to find his voice?"

Saber found what must be another of Divayth's daughters behind him. Donning an odd mix of tarnished armor, she stood with her hand resting idly on the hilt of her sword. Unsure if she was threatening, Saber tensed, and found her bright laugh disarming. "Fear not, I wont harm you. My father sent you didn't he?"

_Father…consort…whatever._ Saber didn't even want to try to figure that one out. "I've come for the boots." Saber told her, turning slightly to sneak another look at this so-called 'last living dwarf'. "You have corpus?"

The thing nodded, "I owe my life to Divayth Fry. He took me in when I was nothing more than a mad monster. He cared for me and has tried to cure me of the Corpus with spells and potions, but they didn't cure me." It shrugged shoulders. "Nor did they harm me. I have feeble hope of a cure, but if anyone can cure this disease it would be Lord Fyr."

Saber considered his words, but found he wasn't about to let himself remain in the bowels of the dungeon as this being had. Better to die first. "And you are the last?"

Again it nodded. "This is how I style myself. I do not know for a fact that I am the last. But in my travels thousands of years ago, I never encountered another. And since I have been here, I often ask Lord Fyr, but he says he has never heard a credible rumor of another Dwemer, on Tamriel, or in any Outer Realm" He shook his head sadly, "Once I was a Master Crafter in the service of Lord Kagrenac, chief architect of the great Second Empire freeholds, and the greatest enchanter of his time. I could not match the genius of Lord Kagrenac, but what he could envision my colleagues and I could build. All of that is gone forever. I still retain my cunning, but my hands and eyes fail me, and my memories have long faded. My only consolation is each day to mock the gods who destroyed my race, and condemned me to this bleak existence."

"Kagrenac?" Saber remembered hearing something of a wizard who could understand divine metaphysics, a genius of his time.

"Lord Kagrenac," Yagrum corrected. "The foremost arcane philosopher and magecrafter of my era, devised tools to shape mythopoeic forces, intending to transcend the limits of Dwemer mortality. However, in reviewing his formulae, some logicians argued that side effects were unpredictable, and errors might be catastrophic. I think Kagrenac might have succeeded in granting our race eternal life, with unforeseen consequences - such as wholesale displacement to an Outer Realm. Or he may have erred, and utterly destroyed our race."

"So it was Kagrenac that was the cause of the disappearance?" Thereby leaving this poor soul alone in the world?

The dwarf nodded, his puffy face grim with nearly a thousand years of loss. "I can only conjecture however. I was not there at the time of the great disappearance. When I did return, my people were gone. Long have I searched for answers, or to at least validate my theories. When I reached Red Mountain, I found Corpus. I've been here every since."

"What became of the tools? Did they also disappear with your race?"

The dwarf shifted his mass on the mechanical 'chair' that housed his bulk. "I suspect the Almsivi have possession of the tools."

The Tribunal? It made sense. The tools might have given them the powers of immortality, somehow not destroying them in the process. This new information seemed to be another piece to the puzzle, to which Saber tucked back in his thoughts to later consider.

Giving a nod, Saber gave a curt bow. "I should return the boots to Lord Fyr." Saber said, "An honor to meet you, Yagrum Bagarn," Another polite bow to Fyr's daughter…wife…"And to you, Sera Fyr."

It was always best to stroke egos whenever one could, in case he'd want to come back later to talk at length with them. The Dunmer woman raised an eyebrow, knowing his trying to charm her. "You'd make a fine addition to our Corprusarium." She smiled, recognizing he was in the early stages, and why else would Divayth allow the man in such a place.

Saber didn't reply, but merely forced a smile and retrieved the boots. Returning the way he came, the only thought on his mind now was. "_An addition? Not on your life and certainly not on mine!"_


	15. Ch 15 Intrigue

Caius sat quietly on the other side of his cramped, single room apartment, trying to read the various notes he'd taken on Saber's mission up to this point. Eiryn slept restlessly in the tiny cot near him. News of Saber's condition affected her more than he could realize. He'd suspected of their relationship, but not its extent, and this troubled him greatly.

Caius looked over at her face, with hands folded under her cheek as she curled to her side on the bed. She looked so much younger, and memories of his daughter at the age of twelve bore to mind. She was willful even then, had always been come to think of it, just like her mother. Wasn't that the very reason he loved Joslin?

Her mother, Joslin Acques, was a commoner but there was nothing common about her. Eiryn got her looks, her strong will, even her fiery temper. Joslin baulked at the commoner's life, joining the mages' guild to learn alchemy and spellcraft. When she grew big with child however, she opted to remain in their modest home in Caldera, reverting to a 'safer' life for the sake of her child.

Caius had wanted to take her from all that, but they both knew the dangers of his work. He'd been a Blade Apprentice back then, had his Skooma habit, and already knew the threat of having a family would bring him. Joslin agreed to keep their marriage secret, and when she bore him a daughter, swore Eiryn would never find out. Caius only now wondered why he hadn't given up the Blades, and focused on his family instead.

Neither Joslin nor Caius had guessed how resourceful their daughter was. Not believing stories they told her of a father killed in the Imperial Legion. Eiryn was sharp witted for a twelve year old, and discovered her father for who he was, and even what he did. Caius was no 'uncle' but the very man sired her. She demanded he take his role seriously. She kept the secret as well, just as long as Caius continually returned to the small house they kept near Gnisis and played his role as father.

When she came of age, Joslin suddenly died from illness, Eiryn joined the scouting guild. Caius knew keeping busy helped with the loss of her mother. But when she began pestering to join the Blades however, he refused, and continually refused for years. Only when she reached her twenties did he finally break, and let her in the exclusive guild.

He'd regretted that decision up to now. He simply couldn't resist the need to protect her, and here Saber- that damned thief- had done what he should have been doing all along; believing in her. The ring, the training, and his having her join him to the Ashlands attested to that. The anger Saber showed him was also very clear how much he cared for Eiryn.

Damn him. The spymaster clenched fists. Of all the wretches in the world for her to fall for, it had to be this elf! A trained assassin! It mattered not that he never officially joined a guild, not to the spymaster. No, he knew well enough the stories of Nekros. That monster no doubt trained Saber in the very methods he'd use on his victims. Poisons, torture, horrible 'accidents' for victims, and many suspected it was due to Nekros' perverse enjoyment of inflicting pain. The thought of the dark assassin and what life the Dunmer had before his death was always haunting him.

No one even knew Nekros had an apprentice until his death. Word on the street started filtering back stories of a young boy he'd kept, called Feryl. The name could've been an insult or randy nickname. It was something meaning 'street dog' or 'fierce', usually referring to the feral dogs that lived in the slums. Caius somehow suspected something darker, more ominous in its meaning. Nekros was a monster, and perhaps considered the 'elfling' as a pet than apprentice. That being assumed, as the boy grew older, Caius considered other tortures the poor boy had faced at the hands of his master.

The Blades in the Imperial city had a hard enough time trying to find the boy who seemed to simply disappear after Nekros' body was found, no doubt into the undercurrent of society. Now and then rumors spread about a dark elf thief, but somehow he managed to stay clear of the city guard. Speculation on this very same 'elfing' also started to stir up questions if he could've been the very one who killed Nekros. Who else could've gotten close enough, let alone be able to gain the opportunity to kill a master assassin other than his very own apprentice?

_He was only twelve_…Caius shuddered, remembering Eiryn at that age. At that age, she was trying so hard to be taken seriously but yet so innocently naïve of the world then. And Feryl had already killed a man, slitting his throat open from ear to ear. What sort of man grows from a childhood such as that? What demons stirred within the Dark Elf who lived with death and pain every day of his young life? Certainly there was innocence lost, but how could he have survived with any amount of compassion with a life like that?

And he wants my daughter!

Something akin to fear, anger, or just plain horror made Caius clench fists. Did Saber simply show a facade of being a caring individual, leading Eiryn to uncertain doom? Perhaps Saber didn't even know himself what manner of evil that could be hiding within him? That being said, what of this mission? We're relying on this Dark Elf who was a criminal, but from what Saber had told him of Ilunibi, that priest, Gares, had addressed him as Lord Neverar himself! Dagoth Ur knew of Saber, discovered this somehow from his lair in Red Mountain. Up until recently, the spymaster had thought the Emperor wished to setup a False Incarnate, even with Vivec's blessing! Now, the plot was twisting into something else entirely. What cruel joke did the gods play now?

Saber was to be their hope? Now infected with Corpus…now what? What was to become of Saber and their plans-

A familiar knock tapped lightly on the door. Almost immediately, Caius knew it was Nine-Toes, a member of the Blades and the only Argonion that knocked so softly.

Opting to speak outside of his single room apartment, Caius opened the door to see the reptilian Blade, patiently waiting entrance. Nine Toes for all his fierceness was an unassuming creature. Soft golden eyes peered back unblinking, waiting with limitless patience to be invited inside. "Eiryn is sleeping." Caius whispered, "What news do you bring?"

Nine-Toes snaked out a forked tongue nervously, shuffled clawed feet in the dirt. His green and yellow scales shimmered in the sunlight as the head turned to look around the empty street for anyone who might be listening.

"A package, Muthsssera…" The Argonion hissed, giving the proper respect. Nine-toes handed him a sealed document, imprinted with the gold and red insignia of the Emperor.

Caius frowned, unsettled and curious to what the Emperor demanded of him now. Here of late, many began questioning the sanity of the dear king. Questions of succession had also come to fruition, and whispered of approaching civil war was at hand. Some families were moving elsewhere in anticipation of the hard times ahead. Likes rats leaving a sinking ship…

"And sssomeone is asssking around town about Ssssaber." The Blade operative said softly. "I think thissss must be important and you'd want to know."

"Who is?" Caius asked, frowning.

"Another Imperial." Nine-Toes answered, "A sssstranger who arrived three daysss ago from Ssseyda Neen. I believe he just came off the ssship."

"Where is he now?"

"He'sss ssstaying at the Council Club." Nine-Toes continued. "I believe he'sss a sssswordsman. He won't sssay his reasonsss either."

"That is suspicious." Caius commented, scratching his chin.

The Argonion nodded. "That wasss my thinking."

"Go to Seyda Neen, and see if the Excise Office will give you anything on this man." Caius ordered. "We need to know who and more importantly what he is. Report back as soon as you can."

"And the man? What if he dissscovers where Ssssaber issss?" Nine Toes asked.

"Saber is unreachable at this time." Caius told him. "He's not even in Balmora, and I doubt anyone can possibly know where he is right now." At this point, it hardly even mattered if anyone knew, unless Divayth Fyr had found that cure for Corpus. Even then, that seemed unlikely. "I still want to know who this man is that seeks him."

"Underssstood." Nine-Toes agreed.

Eiryn was sitting up in the bed, when Caius came back inside. She felt horrible, as if something essential was ripped from her soul. Hair was disheveled, and her eyes were bleak. "I'll find out who this Imperial is." She told him, indicating she'd heard the whole thing.

The spymaster's first reaction was to refuse, to give her something else to do, but in light of her state of mind, such a suggestion might send her into a rage. He also considered she might need something to keep herself occupied. Its better than her moping about in the apartment. "Do you think you can find out, without giving away who and what you are?"

"I'm simply a woman interested in learning more of a stranger, a swordsman who came into town." She smiled, but no humor touched her eyes. "If he asks me of Saber, I'll ask him why he needs to know."

Caius had considered before if perhaps a woman's wiles could be useful to the Blades, but so far, the only women members of the guild were outraged at even using such …talents. "Do what you can." The spymaster said, forcing himself to simply have faith in her. Wasn't that what Saber had done for her?

Unable to admit it to himself, Caius strongly suspected it was Eiryn that became the Dunmer's reason in returning to Balmora, and not his hopes to gain a profit as he had said. This struck a resounding chord in the old spymaster, and giving him even more to think about.

Later that day, Eiryn found herself standing outside of Millie's Clothier Boutique on the west side of the city. This end of town was one might find the noble houses and the merchant's row. A narrow river split Balmora, but though the waterway was shallow enough to walk across in most places, it divided Balmora by the upper-class east side, where you'd find the nobles' manors, and fine merchants, then you had the west side where you'd find the more questionable establishments such as the South Wall, and the poor lived in their box-like homes.

Her mood was still shadowed with the news of Saber's affliction, but she refocused her mind, directed her attention to the task at hand. There was more of a general interest of this swordsman seeking out the thief. Was it revenge? Did someone pay this man to come to Morrowind? Another player in this game perhaps?

Millie Hastien was one of the more renowned clothiers in all of Balmora, carrying the fine gowns and robes of the elite to the more standard fare of basic shirts and pants for the commoner. Upon seeing Eiryn, she looked up from her ledger and beamed a pleasant smile.

"Ah, Eiryn. So good to see you today!" She said cheerfully, her warm brown eyes sparkled with genuine friendliness. She was an aging woman who'd never lost her flair for fashion. The brown tresses were drawn up in a tight bun made her wide face more round and robust. The eyes of amber were crinkled with age, but had lost nothing of their sparkle, or the thin lips their humor. "Come to see the new guar gloves that's come in from the Ascadian Isles?"

Eiryn smiled back, toying with the small bag of coin Caius had given her.

"Actually, I'm looking for something a bit more refined." She told the woman. She'd keep a cheerful disposition, unable to share with Millie the cause of her dark mood.

Millie clapped her hands and giggled. "Oh by the Light of Azura, you've finally come to your senses and dress like a lady!"

Eiryn chuckled, knowing even before she arrived to the shop, this was the reception she'd get. Her reputation for being practical and wearing clothes for purpose not for vanity's sake bothered the shopkeeper to no end. "I trust you can help me find something appealing?"

"You insult me, dear girl!" Millie sniffed in feigned indignation. "You tell me what you have in mind, and we'll get the best in the store at a fair price."

It was a private joke between the two women that Millie would sell clothes half price just as long as Eiryn dressed more in feminine attire. The young scout glanced at the folded clothing upon the shelves, the line of shoes on the floor.

"Something that would make a man look twice, but nothing too _aggressive_."

Mille eyed the younger woman suspiciously. "Do you have a particular man in mind?" She asked, curiosity getting the better of her. "Or is this for hunting?"

Eiryn knew her meaning. Many women used their wiles to hunt for a husband, using curving lines and fluttering lashes as bait. The clothier often teased the scout in finding herself a fine man and settled down 'somewhere nice'. The idea of an adventurer never appealed to Millie, and she never could understand why so many women took up such a dangerous life.

"Just for fun." Eiryn grinned. She wasn't about to reveal anything that might be used against her later.

Tapping a long finger alongside her cheek, Millie appraised Eiryn in her drab clothing of simple tunic and trousers, and matching practical braid. "You'd look good in greens." She commented out loud, stepping around to take measurements just by looking alone. "Though with your coloring, even deep reds would bring out the color in your cheeks. And your hair-"

"I'll deal with the hair after the clothes, thank you." Eiryn warned her off. _If she so much as suggests one more time that I cut it…_

Throwing her hands up, the tailor laughed. "Well I think I have just the thing. It's a gown, not exactly a low neckline, but it accentuates the female form." She said, turning to a locked closet she stores some of her shipments in. From there she pulled out a lovely gown of a deep burgundy red with panels of patterned green brocade. Around the neckline and waist a lovely gold embossed belt fastened to snug around hips, and matching gold ribbon donned criss cross across the waist.

As she'd said, the neckline was modest, but the ribbon and snug middle certainly would pique any man's interest. Sleeves were long, with cuffs of the same matching green against the red velvet, and every hem lined in gold ribbon or embroidery.

Wow…Eiryn thought, fingering the velvety texture. The green panels were of silk brocade. "How much?" Surely she didn't have enough gold in the small bag to afford such finery.

"For you?" Millie laughed. "And to get you into a dress finally? We will work out the price, and I'll throw in the shoes for free."

The gown was elegant enough she could even wear when visiting any one of the Great Houses in, so perhaps just this once she'd treat herself to some decent clothes. The gods knew that she could use a respectable gown now and then when dealing with the wizards or House officials. Saber's words on dressing up to impress the aristocracy came to mind, making a twinge of sorrow touch her heart.

Ever the shrewd woman, Millie took notice. "What is it dear? Do you not like it?"

"Oh no…its not that." Eiryn forced herself to smile. "Just thinking about what a friend told me once, about clothes making the man…or woman."

Millie giggled. "Indeed, that's true enough. With this gown, you'll have any number of men eating out of your hand." She shook out the fabric and held it up against Eiryn's shorter frame. "I'll have to take in the hem a bit, perhaps tighten the middle. You have such a slim waist!"

"Oh ok. I'll take it." Eiryn laughed, thinking now the woman could stop teasing her so much about her appearance! "And then you can give me some pointers on what to do with my hair-" She narrowed her eyes and turned suddenly stern. "And no, I will NOT cut it!"

An hour later, Eiryn stood before a long mirror gazing at a woman she barely recognized. "Wow…" She breathed.

Wow was right. The gown fit her perfectly, showing off her slim frame and 'curves' as Millie so delicately put it. Although not exactly endowed in the chest region, the gown's criss-cross of embroidered ribbons made up for anything lacking by using the color and cloth to bring out the best of a woman's attributes, not matter how she was made. The clothier also managed to sweep up her length of hair into a coif that released only enough hair to dangle in curving waves that brought out the shape of her face. Hairpins of gold and emerald held the hair in place, with matching earrings dangling from her ear lobes. They were on loan, Millie explained, if she was sure to tell others if they asked where she got the dress.

"This is too much, Millie." Eiryn felt something akin to panic at the thought of walking around Balmora like this. No one would recognize her, she barely recognized herself, and what if she tripped and fell on the skirt? What if she got it dirty? What was she thinking? "Perhaps I should go with a blouse and trousers…"

"Nonsense." The tailor chided her. "You look stunning, which is exactly what you wanted, is it not?" Her grin widened, "You shouldn't be so timid of your beauty, my dear. Use it to your advantage."

Eiryn cocked a mocking eyebrow at the woman but couldn't help but laugh at her sincere expression. "Oh very well. I'll take it." She handed over the bag of coin, so certain she as that the dress alone could take all the gold she had. Just wait until Caius sees me in this getup, he'll have a heart attack.

To her surprise, Millie only took half of the coin in the pouch. Handing back the pouch, the clothier winked. "You'll pay me in errands later." Which was just as well. At least Eiryn felt to be of use, even if merchants tended to run her as messenger or delivery. "Are you going to wear that now?"

Eiryn nodded, gathering her old clothes in a sack to simply carry with her. She wanted to find this Imperial fellow as soon as possible as her own curiosity nagged at her senses. "I might come back in a week or so to see what else you might have."

Millie looked as though she was going to burst a vein. "Truly? More gowns?" her tone was so hopeful.

"At least nicer clothes than my usual travel gear." Eiryn laughed, almost sorry to let the poor woman down.

"Well its nice to see you're taking a bit more pride in yourself, my girl." She said with a pout. "You just remember what that friend of yours told you about clothes making the person. Its true. Especially in Morrowind. That dress will do more help than hindrance, trust me."

"I'll let you know." Eiryn promised.


	16. Ch 16 Kendari

Saber found the levitation spell nearly impossible to castr this time. He vigorously shook hands out to try once more. Numb fingers refused to form the intricate glyphs, and focusing his will became all the more difficult as angry thoughts and brutal urgings continued to distract him. He'd never relied on magic up until joining the Blades' Guild, using only the skills he'd mastered as a thief in the jobs he took. Then again, he never dealt with wizards in Cyrodil. Certainly not mages that preferred towers with the only means to reach them was through flying.

Fighting the overwhelming urge to kill someone, the Dunmer drew in a shaky breath and centered thoughts again on the words and glyphs. _This won't beat me… I didn't survive the streets of the Imperial City or any other obstacle…I'm not letting this beat me-_

Feet lifted and Saber flew up through the tower to reach Divayth Fyr. The wizard stood in his study, patiently waiting for his arrival. Hands were folded in the deep blue robes, and a bit more attentive to his visitor this time. The mage knew the early stages of Corpus meant a volatile temper to match.

"Did you get the boots?" Divayth asked, "No boots…no potion."

Saber tossed them at his feet, fighting a sudden desire to slice the self-righteous look off the wizards face. Nothing in the man's expression showed sympathy that this potion could just as well kill him as save him. For all his warning to protect the other Corpus victims, he didn't seem to care much how this potion would affect _him _now did he?

Not even bothering to pick up the boots, the wizard raised an inquisitive brow. "Come here then. I must observe how you react to the potion." He said, offering out the bottle he already had in his hand, as if he knew all along Saber had finished the task. Perhaps too, he was all too eager for a volunteer to try the elixir, regardless of how what consequences Saber would face.

Saber took the glass bottle, wary of some trick the wizard might be playing him but its not as though he had any choice now did he? Sniffing the contents, the thief grimaced. It was awful, whatever it was. It reminded him of something rancid. "What's in it?"

The wizard laughed, "Wouldn't you like to know?" He said, waving hands to encourage to drink. "Come now, bottoms up. You must drink all of it."

Bracing for the horrible taste, Saber threw the bottle back and gulped as fast as he could, fighting the urge to gag or spit out the foul liquid. For starters, it was slimy, reminding him of something off a slug, and the bitter taste mixed with sour, as if the potion had gone bad. _He's probably just trying to kill me…_Saber considered, but at this point, he no longer cared. Better that than what waited for him in the Corprusarium. Better to be put out of my misery now.

A wave of …something…caused him to stagger. Saber fell against a bookshelf feeling the odd disorienting affects take hold. Whatever magic or power the potion held, gripped him and shook him to his core. Muscles twitched, dropping him to the floor, and the sensation of tiny fingers working over him made him thrash to fend them off. Of course, there was nothing to fight against as the potion did its work. _He's killing me…_

Divayth Fyr stood without emotion, staring down at the fallen elf, watching with intense interest. "Remarkable." He whispered.

Gasping, Saber found the sensation subsiding leaving him exhausted and spent on the floor. Staring up the wizard above him, the thief was palled the man crouched over him to pull back an eyelid for a better look.

"Amazing." Sighed Divayth, "I think it worked. No sign of the disease at all. Of course, you still have Corprus disease, just like I planned. But all your symptoms are gone. Marvelous. I'll go try it out on some of the more desperate inmates. But I'll answer any questions you have before you go."

Saber managed to lurch to a sitting position, throwing the wizard's hands off of him. "Get away from me." He snarled.

Divayth was perplexed. "Hmm. Interesting. I thought the violent nature of the disease would have subsided-"

Saber glared, knowing this was his own justified anger and nothing of the Corpus disease. Oddly he felt normal now, only tired from the fit. "So I'm cured?"

The wizard nodded, obviously still 'observing' him.

"I thought the potion was to cure me, but you say I still have Corpus." That was not part of the deal. Didn't he say he even _planned_ this?

"With all the powerful side effects to go with it." Divayth nodded, as if Saber should already know this.

"What side affects?" Saber demanded, wanting to wring his neck.

"Well immunity for one." The sorcerer told him, backing off to sit in a chair at a table. He began writing in a journal. No doubt his 'findings'. "Those who have Corprus do not contract any other disease."

"Immunity?" Saber remained sitting on the floor, trying to comprehend what he was being told. "To all diseases?"

"All of them." Divayth nodded without even looking. "And of course, being you still have Corprus, you can't very well contract that again now can you?"

The thief stared at a line of books near him, wondering what it was going to be like to never get sick again. No more Blight, or even a common cold. He never had to worry if he fought Corprus beasts either. "And what else?"

"What else?" Divayth raised brows, as if only then realizing the Dunmer was asking him something. "Oh yes, well you also have a certain level of eternal life."

"_What?"_ To this Saber managed to drag himself off the floor, forcing himself to stand on legs gone weak. "Eternal Life?"

"Yes, barring from injuries, you will remain unchanged." The wizard explained, still jotting down his notes. "So you can easily see a very long life-"

"Wait a minute-" Saber stood over him on the table, "You're telling me that just as long as I don't get myself killed by say…a knife wound or something, I can just keep on living?"

"Barring from blade, falls, drowning, fire…that sort of thing." Divayth nodded, a smile on his mouth. "You won't see old age, but being Dunmer that was a long way off anyway. Just remember you're not _immortal_. You are _eternal_. See the difference?"

"Anything else you care to tell me?" Saber asked sarcastically, not quite believing this was happening. What sort of cure was this anyway?

The magician sat back, startled by his question. "Anything else? My dear boy, did you expect more? I should think you'd be happy the potion worked."

It worked…yes it did. Saber wasn't sure what to make of it. "I won't go mad will I?"

Divayth blinked in surprise. "Does your family have a disposition to psychosis?"

Saber frowned, "No." Not that he knew of.

"Well then I wouldn't worry about it." The wizard returned to his note taking, scribbling in languages Saber had never seen before.

"And I'm not contagious…?"

The wizard shook his head, not looking up from his work. "You're fine. Now, if you have no other questions, you can go." His words were clipped, giving him his dismissal.

Feeling awkward, Saber retreated, making his way back downstairs and out of the wizards tower. Now he knew why so few hated dealing with the Televani. All were insane.

Almost as soon as she turned down the street that led to the Council Club, Eiryn realized how clothes did indeed make the man, or woman in her case. People actually stepped aside out of difference, and nobles made courtesy nods or even smiled in her direction where otherwise she'd be almost nudged out of their way.

Maybe Saber's words held more truth than she had even suspected…?

Upon reaching the Council Club, she set her bag of old clothes near the door, not even caring if someone stole her rags. She'd planned on replacing them in a few hours anyways. As she reached for the door handle, a well dressed Imperial gentlemen scrambled to reach the door first, in order to open and allow her entrance.

Smiling at him in her gratitude, Eiryn lifted her chin and held back the giggle at the audacity of the whole thing. This very man might just as well shove her out of his way if she wore her travel garb! And here he was literally tripping over himself to be the gentleman!

Once inside the club, she waited a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the darkened interior and wondered why she never stayed here instead of the Eight Plates. Already she knew the answer. Why pay the higher price of a bed, even if the bed was nicer, when the Eight Plates was more affordable? Still…maybe once or twice, it would be nice to have the cleaner sheets, and better services-

"My lady…" A Dunmer smiled at her near the door. His red gaze flittered over her attire, obviously admiring what he saw. This stunned Eiryn who remained aloof, knowing how very few Dunmer considered Bretons to be that appealing. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for someone." She said pleasantly, having to ignore the gaze constantly falling down from her face. Then again, it occurred to her that such a dress as this might help in remaining rather…_anonymous_ with men if they reacted this way. They weren't looking at her face now where they? "A swordsman…"

The Dunmer bore an intricate facial tattoo that covered nearly half his face with a deep blue design. The lines traced the smooth forehead and high cheekbones, emphasizing the elven features along light ashen skin. His dark hair was cut rather short, marking him a Dark Elf that perhaps had always lived among the cities. Lips were thin, curling into a pleasant smile, and the blood red eyes blinked slowly as he clearly approved of the young lady before him.

"We get many swordsmen here, my lady." He told her, remaining polite.

"But I hear this one is from Cyrodil." She smiled, primping her hair and acting as though she were nothing more than some pampered lady interested in meeting with the legendary swordmaster.

"Ah, that one is downstairs. Having his mid day meal." The man told her with a slight bow. "Shall I introduce you?"

His extended hand startled her. Was this how the upper class conducted themselves? Such foolery in just wanting to talk to another! Taking his hand,

Eiryn played along. "I would be delighted if you would." She said, flashing a smile and fluttered lashes. "What did you say your name was, good sir?"

The Dark Elf was pleased she took interested in knowing him. "Vales, dear lady, Thanelen Vales. And your name?"

Eiryn smiled, knowing to not reveal her real name. "Joslin Sosia Acques of Vivec." She said, giving her mother's name, and making up her origins. A swordsman from Cyrodil would hardly know the truth of it, but he'd recognize the importance of the holy city of Vivec.

She knew by this Dunmer's name alone, he was seriously no one of importance other than a smith that appealed to the nobles' with his work. He charged a bit more with the promise of higher quality, yet Eiryn had also heard from good sources, he was neither better nor worse than any of the smiths in town. Playing the fool, she nodded kindly, having him lead her downstairs into the Council Club to meet this stranger.

She wasn't sure what she expected to see, being this was a 'swordsman', one who followed a profession by earning his living with skills with a sword. Perhaps someone bigger, wearing a full suit of armor, or even boasting a massive sword for all to see, but instead, she was introduce to a man older than she assumed, with aging wrinkles about his eyes and further creased upon seeing her and trying to get a better look at her. Hair dropped to his shoulders in uninterrupted silver, with a white beard trimmed along his jawline. Dark brows hung over eyes that belied the age, still bright and fierce. Even aged as he was, Eiryn could see he was a handsome man, one might consider pleasant to speak to over a cup of wine and share tales of his bravery. But her job was clear, and she gave her most charming smiles.

Vales gave him a polite bow. "Muthsera, I present Joslin Sosia Acques of Vivec who wishes to speak to you. I hope we have not disturbed your mid day meal?"

"For company as lovely as this, I will starve for days." The man smiled with his Imperial accent, he motioned Eiryn could be seated at his table. So formal this seemed just to speak to one another, she thought.

Valas held her chair as she took her seat across from the gentleman. "I present Merthisan Kendari, sword master and paladin from the Imperial City of Cyrodil."

Eiryn found it took all her composure upon hearing that name to not fall over from shock. _Merthisan?_ Not _the_ Merthisan Kendari? He was a famous swordmaster known as being one of best warriors known in all of Tamriel. Why in the Nine Divines was he in Morrowind, looking for Saber of all people? Keeping her composure, she forced a smile to hide her shock.

"I've come because I've heard you are none other than Merthisan Kendari, the master swordsman in from the Imperial City." She flattered him, extending her hand for him to clasp. Could he even guess her shock she tried to hide?

He gently touched her hand, even daring to kiss the knuckles with a slight brush of his lips and tickle of his mustache. "Dear lady, I am he. What would you have of me?" Perhaps he assumed she needed someone to fight, rescue or otherwise do hero-like things, but Eiryn had other things in mind.

"I'm afraid my interest is only for my own amusement, Muthsera." She smiled, playing her role as fawning female. His reaction was standard, and the eyes were guarded. "I was told of a man who's legendary, and of course my curiosity has gotten the better of me."

"Oh?" His dark brows rose up in his own curiosity. The eyes were a vivid blue, clear as a sunny day's sky, the pupils intense and lashes dark.

"Why would someone as famous and as skilled as you would come to our fair land of Morrowind." She flashed a smile, "Unless you've come to find adventure. This land certainly provides enough opportunity to test one skills."

His eyes narrowed a bit, as the icy gaze seemed to appraise the woman before him. "Do you approach all foreigners with questions such as this, or am I so fortunate to be the only one favored by your attention?"

His adulation felt insincere to her, or Eiryn considered she simply wasn't used to being flattered such as this. "I'm curious by my very nature." She remained vague. "But if I meet someone from another land, and I'm told they are of some reputation, then yes, I would certainly ask them all manner of questions."

Which wasn't a lie. But how many famed sword fighters had she actually met?

He picked up his goblet to sip the expensive wine. "I'm actually looking for someone." He admitted to her. "Another foreigner from the Imperial City. Perhaps you've met this man?"

"Perhaps if you were describe him?" She offered.

"He's a Dark Elf, young, known to be quite personable. He's taller than most Dark Elves, long black hair, red eyes." He told her, and his gaze seemed to watch her carefully. "Goes by the name of Saber, or perhaps Feryl, or Feratis?"

Eiryn remembered the name Feryl, and pretended to frown in thought. "Those names do not ring a bell. We have many Dark Elves here in Morrowind. If you are seeking a Dark Elf in the land of the Dunmer, I'm afraid your quest will be a long one."

The man leaned forward, twining hands to press them again his chin. Elbows rested on the table and he seemed to consider his words carefully. "This is no ordinary elf, however." He explained, carrying such certainty he would be found easily enough among thousands. "If you met him, you'd remember him."

"Is he that impressive?" She laughed lightly, maintaining an air for being flirty and innocent. "And why would a legendary swordsman such as yourself be seeking this Dark Elf? Is he an old rival?" She lowered her voice dramatic. "Is he dangerous?"

The man paused a moment, casting her another suspicious look. "Oh he's dangerous enough." The voice was edgy, as he motioned to a serving man to fill her glass with some of the delicate wine. "Are you certain you've not heard of him? He's come from the Imperial prison, a thief. I was told he'd come to Balmora."

"A thief? Is he an escaped prisoner? Why would he come to Balmora?"

Merthisan sipped more wine. "To find someone named Caius I'm told. I suppose if I find this man Caius, then I can find Feryl." He was speaking more to himself now than to her, voicing a plan that had only taken shape. "Do you know of such a man?"

"The only Caius I know of is Caius Cosades…he's a 'sugar tooth' on the west side of the city." She sniffed in distain, being sure to look disgusted. "Is this Feryl a user? Perhaps that is why he seeks this Caius fellow?"

The swordsman frowned, ignoring her questions. "Its important that I find him."

Before speaking, Eiryn noticed the man grew very still, watching her carefully. This was the face of someone who suspected something was up. Those were intelligent eyes that peered a sharp gaze at her. Perhaps he was seeing through her ruse, but she'd continue to play until he called her on it. "And again, I ask, why you would seek this man? Perhaps if you told me, I could give you an idea of where he would travel to next."

"Your hands…" The man said with an ironic smile on his thin-lipped mouth, "are very calloused for a noble lady."

Cursing her stupidity for not wearing gloves Eiryn primped and folding her hands delicately on the table. "Not my best feature, I know. Did I say I was noble?" She'd let him guess now, for she never introduced with a title to him. He had only assumed by her gown she might be of some aristocracy.

"Are you?"

"And what does it matter if I am or am not?" She retorted

"Appearing as being something that you are not, makes me very suspicious." He pointed out, tapping fingers to indicate his own growing annoyance at the game she played. "Who sent you?"

"Sent me?" She pretended to be affronted.

"You are not the first person to wonder why I seek this man out." He explained as if it were obvious.

She folded arms across her chest and leaned back in her chair. "A well-known and very skilled swordsman comes to Morrowind seeking a Dark Elf indicates you might be hunting him, that he might be dangerous. Its a perfectly natural question one might ask, since this Dunmer might very well be an assassin, or some mad man. -"

"And you are trying to protect him?" He asked, the face tense as he realized her facade.

"Just curious as to why you would go through so much effort." She shrugged. "If he's a thief, have you asked one of the city guards? Perhaps if you were to share your concern for this man with them, they might be able to keep an eye out for him. So why then do you seek him out? To kill him?"

The man cast an unblinking stare as he measured his options. "Do you know where he is or not?"

Eiryn sucked in a breath to reply but then held her breath. She wanted to deny knowing anything about him, to work on provoking the man to admit his motives in finding Saber, but something prevented her. Instincts she came to rely upon told her the man may not trust her, would refuse to reveal anything if she continued as she was.

Unsure if Caius would approve, she relaxed, and gave a brief nod. "I have heard of him. I might know where he is." She finally said.

The man tensed, the hands gripped the edge of the table. "Where is he?" Merthisan looked too eager for her reply.

"Not until you tell me why you're looking for him." Eiryn persisted. If anything else, she was going to find out that. Even if this man were to seek out the thief to kill him, it had occurred to her, that death was certainly preferable than the horrible life that corpus offered him. Nonetheless, she would give this man nothing if he didn't give her an answer.

"Is he a prisoner?" Merthisan asked.

She pressed lips together to indicate he'd get nothing from her.

The warrior gritted teeth, wiping the beaded sweat off his forehead in agitation. "At least tell me this; are you a friend of his? Do you try to protect him?" The urgency in the man's voice indicated a true concern, not a wish to kill the Dark Elf.

"I would not see him harmed." Eiryn admitted, knowing it was more than that. She would save Saber if she could. Her answer seemed to satisfy him as he eased his stiff posture, sitting back in his chair.

"We are old friends, Feryl and I." He told her. "I only seek him out for reasons of his safety."

Eiryn wasn't sure, he could be just as well lying to her. "He never mentioned you." She said. Saber didn't mention anyone in his life, but she'd only known for a short time, and he seemed reluctant to speak much of his past. But why wouldn't he say something of knowing one of the greatest swordsman in all of Tamriel? "And safety from what?"

"Someone else is also looking for him." Merthisan lowered his voice. "I've come to warn him."

"An old enemy?"

Merthisan nodded slowly. "I'm not certain if Feryl would want others to know of him. I told you all I can."

"How do I know its not you who seek him harm?"

He flinched, suddenly slamming his hand down on the table making silverware and his glass to rattle. "Because I am Merthisan Kendari, and not known to arbitrarily go around killing people for the fun of it!" he snapped.

_And whoever this man sought out the Dark Elf had…_

Eiryn was stunned by the eruption, but now had no doubts of the mans' sincerity. Caius needed to know about this, perhaps even meet with Merthisan. "I cannot tell you." She found herself saying, lifting her hand up to silence him before another outburst. "I will in time, but I need to touch base with some connections I have."

"Who are you..?" Merthisan's eyes narrowed, the head turning slightly. "What are you?"

She gave a soft smile. "A friend."

"Merthisan Kendari? _Master_ swordsman Kendari? You cannot be serious!" Caius had to sit down from shock. He was already unsettled seeing the exquisite gown his daughter wore, making her appear completely different than the woman he spoke to that morning. Then he discovers not only did she find out who this stranger was, but that it was none other than the world's best swordsman. His reputation was well known for being on the side of justice, often serving his skills to fight the wicked, save the poor- And he was _friends_ with Saber? "How in Oblivion does he know Saber?"

"I think you should tell him about Saber…that he's in Tel Fyr." She said, having her own theories of this swordsman. Saber was elusive, but had mentioned being formally trained. Why did he not boast it being none other than Merthisan Kendari? "Merthisan could be an ally-"

Her father nodded, not listening as other thoughts came to mind. "Did Kendari mention who this old enemy was?"

"No, he wouldn't say. Which is why I think you should speak to him directly."

"Whatever for?" Caius asked, curious to why his daughter would suggest such a thing.

"Because having the worlds greatest swordsman as one of the Blades…" She smiled, emphasizing the word Blades. "We could do worse."

Ah, yes. The girl was quick, wasn't she? The reputation of the man was certainly honorable enough, and he'd keep a secret if nothing else. Why such a hero would know someone like Saber was a mystery however. Perhaps Kendari would explain more if he joined them?

"Set up a meeting then. Let me do all the explaining." Caius the spymaster told her. "We'll see if he'd like to join the Emperor's eyes and ears."


	17. Ch 17 Shadows

Ch. 18 Lurking in the Shadows

Eiryn led Merthisan into the west end of Balmora late that night, under the veil of darkness where fewer eyes and ears could watch them. He was a bit reserved to the idea of being guided into the dimly lit streets of Balmora, where fewer city guards patrolled the roads and the citizens here were not as well dressed, nor as welcoming.

When told he'd meet someone who could tell him more about Saber's whereabouts, however, Merthisan knew he'd have little choice but to trust her. Keeping his guard up, he remained one step behind her, ready for trouble, his cloak brushed back to keep his sword arm free. Even as he walked, his hand remained on the hilt of sword.

The young Breton could hardly blame him. He was on edge, perhaps a bit paranoid, and now and then would pause in his walking to glance behind him. "I see your cities here in Morrowind nearly empty of street beggars." He commented to fill the silence.

"The Temple takes care of them." She explained, having since changed into new trousers of a finer material, with a blouse and snug bodice. She wore her sword against her hip, and finding the night warm enough to go without a cloak. Hair was in its practical braid for the time being.

"I've heard of the Temple and the living gods." Merthisan said with awe in his voice. "Living gods one could actually speak to…" He shook his head. "They were mortal once?"

"So the stories say." Eiryn replied. "I've never met them myself."

"I thought you were from the holy city of Vivec?"

She glanced over her shoulder back at him. "Vivec is a big city." She told him; not wishing to tell him she'd lied of her own origins. "Lord Vivec's palace is virtually impossible to get in, and you normally meet with the High Fane if you have business there."

Merthisan gave a small chortle of laughter. "Ah yes, still the gods remain out of our reach."

"But their reach can be long, so the Temple says." Eiryn added, as she turned down the narrow street that led to the spymaster's apartment. His place was at the end, and Merthisan seemed hesitant to follow. "What's wrong?"

"Who is this man that wishes to speak to me?" He asked her, which was the third time he'd asked her since she arranged this meeting.

"I told you. We're meeting with Caius." She said, for the third time. Eiryn wasn't able to explain anymore more than that, knowing the spymaster would want that privilege. No doubt the swordmaster felt he was being led into a trap.

"No, I meant…who is he? You've referred to him as a 'sugartooth', but who is he to know Feryl?"

Eiryn hesitated before answering; again looking behind her, when something caught her eye. Something dark flitted out of sight just down the street atop one of the squat houses. At first she thought it was a trick of the light, but realized someone didn't want to be seen. She'd only caught a glimpse, but her companion had already noticed the shadow long before she had.

Merthisan's hand touched the hilt of his sword. "You saw it too?" He whispered softly. "He's been following us since we left the Council Club."

Remaining on the rooftops, the shadow would not have been discovered until too late, and with its superior position. He, or she, could move anywhere in the city, even avoiding the city guards. Whoever this was, knew the art of stealth and remaining silent. She couldn't hear a sound from where she knew this person must be. Could this be one of the assassin's guilds or a member of the thieves' guild prepared to rob them?

Merthisan moved a step closer to her. "You should continue on." He spoke in a whisper, his half lit face grave with concern. "I may be able to circle around, to try to deter him-" Merthisan suggested, but a low, menacing chuckle came from behind them. The sound revealed the dark figure had already moved around them, cutting off any means of escape or call for help and had done so without alerting them to movement. Merthisan drew out his blade with one fluid motion, falling into a rigid fighter's stance.

From what Eiryn could tell, this ominous fellow was shrouded in near all uninterrupted black, with mostly his dark cloak concealing his identity. The hood he wore covered his face in shadow, and when he moved in a gentle pacing back and forth manner, it was as if strolling for an evening walk, nothing made a sound. Nor a scuff of a boot against the dirt street, not even a whisper of his clothes interrupted the quiet.

"Merthisan Kendari…" The man's voice spoke low, ominous. Eiryn detected a slight Imperial accent. "What brings you to fair Morrowind?"

"That is none of your concern, miscreant!" Merthisan snapped angrily, swinging the sword in an impressive flourish to illustrate his skill. "Stand down and surrender!"

Unimpressed, the unknown man remained in the half-shadows of the unlit street. His stance paused sideways, the head faced forward, chin tilted low, as if measuring his opponent for weakness. Eiryn could see the glint of steel but little else. The length of the cloak obscured any definition of his weapon or if his other hand might bear a dagger.

"Surrender? Ah, what honor would that be for me to _surrender_ to the infamous _Kendari_ master!" Another low chuckle mocked the offer. "I think not."

"What do you want?" Eiryn barked back.

The shadow chuckled once more, "This does not concern you, woman. My fight is only with this gentleman." The cloak swept back from arms to clear the way for a fight. With all the grace of a dancer, his blade hissed through the air as the man moved into a fighter's stance adding an impressive flourish of his own letting his sword speak of his skills. The blade came to life in his hands, becoming nothing but a blur of steel as it twirled in an intricate spiral. This was no common thief-

Merthisan stiffened at first, frowned, then completely fell out of his fighting position. Eiryn was stunned. Was he forfeiting? Instead of answering the challenge, the point of his sword fell. "Feryl?" He said in incredulity.

A lighter laugh answered him, and the stranger pulled back the hood to reveal Saber's familiar grin. Eiryn gasped, covering her mouth with her hand as if she'd seen a ghost. He was the last person she was expecting to see in the darkened street "Saber-?" Alive? With no sign of Corpus upon him! It couldn't be! She stared in alarm thinking this an apparition. "The potion worked?"

He wore as he'd always worn, but the darkness of the street made everything appear almost black. The darker, more ominous tone shifted to his usual light-hearted voice. It was unsettling how easy he transformed from one person so dark and menacing back to the roguish thief she knew.

Splaying hands, the cocky thief gave a shrug. Before he could give any swaggering comment, she nearly knocked him over in a fierce hug. Laughing, he staggered a few steps before catching their balance. Gods it was wonderful to feel the warmth of his arms around her!

"I've missed you too." He murmured in her ear, just as happy to see her healed from her wounds. After a moment, he turned his attention to the swordsman who was still staring at the both of them, the sword-master's mouth set into a grim line. "What in all the sacred names are you doing in Morrowind, Merth?"

"Trying to find you, you taffer!" Unable to maintain his air of stern warrior, he brightened to extend a hand to clasp forearms in friendship. "I nearly took your head off, you damned fool."

Saber snorted in disgust. "Not likely! Took you long enough to realize it was me."

"I knew we were followed me from the start!" The Imperial retorted. "I just didn't think it was you."

Saber laughed. "How was I to know you've grown so old in just three short years?" He had to jerk back from the playful swipe at his face, having to pull away from Eiryn unless he wanted to be cuffed. "Slowing down as well-" Another swipe, this time closer.

Merthisan gave a warning glare, "We'll see how slow I am after we spar later, you whelp." He promised, determined to beat the smug grin off the elf. "But first, we need to talk. I've come a long way to find you."

The tone abruptly switched to something more ominous, one Saber couldn't ignore. "Now?"

"As soon as possible." He turned to Eiryn. "If you excuse us, I must speak words with Feryl, alone."

She eyed the two, wanting very much to listen to this news, but felt Saber might want to talk to his friend alone first. Master Kendari's tone also indicated his news was of importance. Now that she knew Saber was safe, she could wait. She'd pester him for details later.

"Could you wait at Caius' home? I will be there when I'm finished." Saber told her. He smiled softly, leaned over to touch lips to hers.

"Very well." She reluctantly conceded.

A bit annoyed with his being suddenly secretive, Eiryn knew she had to respect his privacy. Giving him one last hug, just to make sure it was him, she released her grip, to watch the two men disappear into the dark night.

"What is it that you've traveled so far to tell me?" Saber asked his old swordmaster. He hadn't seen his mentor for nearly three years, and the man had changed little. His silver-gray hair fell to his shoulders, matching his gray beard that was kept trimmed close to the jawline. His light eyes still carried the years of knowledge and training he'd accumulated, as well a level of self-righteousness that seemed to focus too often on saving the soul of a particular Dark Elf thief.

Master Kendari had the kind of looks women swooned over, despite his age and what's more, he was so gracious that the ladies would literally fawn over the man. All hand kissing, and manners this one was. Saber had often teased him of how different the two of them were. He was the outlaw thief, whilst Merthisan was the noble paladin. You couldn't get any more comparison, and yet somehow they remained the best of friends.

Merthisan was never considered a fool, nor arbitrary with his decisions. The very fact the man journeyed into Morrowind, already rife with disease, plague, storm, and evil, assured something was terribly amiss back home.

"What's wrong?"

Merthisan said, shifting his gaze around the darkened streets, "I've come to warn you that you're in danger."

Saber had to hold back a laugh, and felt relieved. He started to turn back to Cosades' house. "Merth, when am I ever _not_ in danger?"

"Its Nekros-."

Saber stopped mid step, feeling something grip his heart, shaking him to his soul. "What of him?" Nekros, dead now for ...how long was it…almost twenty years now?

"I believe he's returned."

Merthisan might as well as punched him the face. The solid blow of those words took Saber's senses off track, until he vehemently shook his head. "He's dead." Flashes of memory passed through him of those terrible lifeless eyes staring at the elf boy, the body sinking below the surface of the murky river- "He's dead, Merth."

"Are you sure-?"

"Yes I'm sure." Saber stared at his old friend hard. He'd never told the details of Nekros' death. In fact, Saber had never told anyone, but those who knew him best had a pretty good idea it was the young dark elf that did the assasin in. "Tell me why you think that Nekros is back."

"A man had been tortured…left for dead. He rambled on and on about the man who attacked him." Merthisan wet suddenly dry lips. "He described Nekros."

Not sure what to think of that, Saber stepped back. "Described him?" Anger rose up, no- fear…horrible dread. "Nekros…big man? …Throat gaping open? You mean _that_ Nekros?" Saber could hear the anger and fear mounting in his own voice. "The one I watched sink to the bottom of the king's river? The Nekros that left blood stains from Bower Street all the way to the docks? You mean _that_ Nekros?"

"Feryl!" Merthisan snapped, pulling the Dark Elf into a short ally to lower his voice. "I know what you must think, but the dying man also described his attackers as having a scar on his throat! Isn't that how you'd killed him? He even recognized the tattoo on his hand, by pity's sake!"

"Pity' sake indeed." Saber muttered in agitation, fending off old demons. "Are you suggested a dead man's come back to life? It's not Nekros. An imposter, maybe, or someone trying to imitate him-"

"Perhaps he wasn't dead-"

Saber glared now, not believing…refusing to believe, that Nekros was anything but dead. "Very unlikely." His tone warned the swordmaster his lack of doubt. "The Imperial Guard found his body, Merth. He was cold dead. I dumped the body myself."

The swordmaster nodded, resting his hand on the younger man's shoulder. He had known through the years only part of what the young dark elf had to endure with his old master. Any subject concerning his past often riled the younger man to the point of temper. "Enough, Feryl. I believe you. But I still think whoever this is, may very well be after you. I've come to warn you, that is all." He let his mouth pull into a gentle smile. "And offer my help if you need it."

"Help? Help to keep me out of trouble?" Saber asked him. Wasn't the swordsman always trying to do that? "Or save me from myself?"

"Whatever help you need." Merth patted his shoulder. "How many times have I had to pull your hide from the fires?"

"It hasn't been that many!" Saber rolled eyes. "And I've saved your hide just as many times if not more."

"That you did…" The Imperial eyes glittered in amusement, as if recalling those very times as fond memories.

"And trying to save me from myself doesn't count." The elf added, with a smirk.

"Don't be so sure of that, lad." The man said. His pitch of his voice remained stern. The stance grew stiff and authoritive.

_Oh no, here it comes_. Saber recognized the tone of his voice, and the auspicious beginnings of a lecture coming full force. The master swordsman set thumbs within his wide belt and rocked on his heels. "Almost five months you've been gone, and no word to us…"

_Us_… he meant Lyra as well. Memories of the beautiful woman with red-gold hair, and eyes of the deepest blue flashed thru his mind. It struck him hard, conflicting with feelings of the new woman in his life now. They were both exotic, but while Lyra was curves and softness, Eiryn was strength and humor. Lyra had been his first lover, and knew him more than anyone alive. Even more than Eiryn to a certain extent, for the young Imperial woman had met Nekros and knew him for the monster he was. She'd seen the damage inflicted on the elf too often, and knew exactly what that beast had done.

They had been children when he first met Lyra, and now she was grown woman owning the Blue Lady, guiding other women and protecting them from the horrors of the streets, the very horrors Saber had pulled her from by giving her the brothel. She was the one that 'civilized' the wild elf he was back then, even teaching him the nobles' manners, dance, and conduct. Lyra also taught him the finer aspects of lovemaking, but oddly enough their relationship was only that of very good friends. They both knew she wanted to follow the life of a courtesan, and he was a thief. It was enough she was always there for him, and he'd help her whenever she need him.

"How is Lyra?" Saber dared asked.

"Well enough, considering the last she saw of you was being dragged off to prison." Ah there it was, the chiding tone and the lecture soon to come. This time, the thief knew he deserved it. "And its fortunate the Blue Lady was in her name for she'd lost everything with your imprisonment otherwise. The other girls were understandably upset as well. I myself was furious with you. How stupid can you get-"

Saber wasn't listening, having heard this all before. Yes, it was incredibly stupid for him to get caught, and for all Merthisan's lecturing and trying to make the Dark Elf into something of an honorable man, they both knew the thief could've retired. The gods knew he didn't need the money. He had profit enough from the Blue Lady, and always a home there. Why couldn't he just settle down? He had everything a man could want, and then some.

"…and then I learn you're given a full pardon and shipped off to Morrowind of all places, and still no word from you." The Imperial was still spouting. "We inquired of you, but the officials would say nothing. Do you have any idea how much trouble I went through to find you?"

"Why do you suppose that is?" Saber replied in a sarcastic tone. What's more, how was he to even get word to old companions with his trouble here? He couldn't look at the man now, to see the disappointment in his face.

"You tell me." Merthisan grunted in disgust.

_Because I'm an old Dunmer hero reborn to save all of Morrowind, that's why!_ Naturally, he couldn't speak the words. No doubt there was still this veil of secrecy he needed to uphold. How could he explain this to Merthisan? Would he even believe him?

The swordmaster folded arms to throw a very firm glare at his former student. "No answer then? I suppose I deserve no better." He frowned, the brows coming together in a firm scowl. "You owe me nothing-"

"Merth-" Saber began, sick and tired of the endless rhetoric the man so loved to hinder upon him. Guilt was almost choking. He owed this man so much, for training him, offering him friendship. Merthisan was the man that had given him the courage to end his misery with Nekros.

"Neither does Lyra, for all that she'd done for you over the years." The man added.

How this man could smother him with guilt so easily? "Alright!" Saber threw up his hands, and laughed off his unease. "What would you have me do? Tell me now, and I'll do it if it will shut you up!"

An odd smirk curled up one side of the Imperial's mouth, with a twinkle in his eyes. "Feryl, I knew when we first met that you've a good heart. You'd never intentionally hurt what you consider your friends, but you must start taking responsibility-"

What in the name of all that was holy did he spout about now? Saber stared at him hard, "I'm not responsible for anyone but myself."

"And that is my very point-"

"Oh gods…not this again." Saber moaned, rolling his eyes. "Would you have take up the oath of a paladin now?" He made a face, "I carry a lifetime of crime behind me that is not so easily forgiven, and it's just not my nature-"

"I know I know." Merth drawled, waving a dismissive hand "You're not a hero, as you so often told me, yet somehow you end up doing the right thing…most of the time at any rate."

Defeated, the Dunmer shook his head. "What is it, then? What do want me to do?"

"Don't run off." Merth told him. Did the man now read minds? Had he heard how he ran off to Suran, how close he came to losing himself in the back lands of Morrowind? "Finish what you started."

Saber snorted a rueful laugh. If only this man knew what had been started! Perhaps then, he might not be so eager for the thief to remain. "You have no idea what's started here, do you?"

"If it's for the greater good, then you must complete the task set upon you." Merth told him with force. His unshakeable belief in all that was right never wavered. An amused grin spread over his face. "What sort of mischief have you been up to now, anyway? And how in the Nine Hells did you get cured of Corpus?"

Pushing concerns of Nekros...or whoever this was, aside, Saber shrugged. "I'm not exactly cured." He told him, "As for the rest of this mess I'm in, that is a very long story best told over a very large mug of beer."

"Well then you're buying." Merth grinned, accepting the offer.

"I must speak to someone first." Saber explained.

"Ah yes, this Caius fellow." The man smiled. "I was being led by that lovely young woman to meet with him before you interrupted us."

Saber frowned. What the-? Why would she be taking him to see Caius for? "Then you might as well come with me then." He muttered, curious what the spymaster had in mind for Merthisan.


	18. Ch 18 Orders

Chapter 18: Orders

Eiryn tapped fingers on the wooden tabletop, taking note the entire piece of furniture wobbled dangerously to falling over. The spymaster sat watching her, still uncertain to her story of Saber's return, let alone cure. How many times did he expect her to repeat her story? She was just glad to see him alive and well.

"I'm telling you Caius," She told him again. "He looked fine. There was no sign of Corprus on him at all."

"Neither blight nor age can harm him, The Curse-of-Flesh before him flies…" The spymaster murmured to himself. Eiryn caught her breath. That was part of the prophecy…and they stared at each other in staggered silence. The significance of the recent events loomed before them now, causing the young scout to wonder now more than ever of what Fate had in store for the thief.

A knock interupted their thoughts as Saber entered, with Master Kendari in tow. "As you can see, the potion worked." He told them. His manner was abrupt, almost tense to the point of appearing like a caged animal. Eiryn could see something had obviously unsettled him deeply, yet his manner indicated he wished to speak nothing about it. Merthisan also remained stiff and remote as if both of them simply wanted to finish up and leave. "Now what? I seek out these Lost Prophecies?"

The spymaster lifted eyebrows, seeing Merthisan Kendari for the first time. One only had to look at the noble warrior to know what side of justice he was on, if one could assume alignment by appearance alone. Standing beside the Dunmer thief, who wore his usual dark leathers and black silk, made for an odd comparison to the polished swordsman. While the dark elf carried an almost forboding quality at times, this warrior clearly carried a level of honor and self-assuance in his very posture. Master Kendori donned a pale blue tunic, with soft breeches of suede leather, heavy leather boots and a wide belt that carried an impressive long sword of elegant steel. Graying hair was pulled back from his aging face, but nothing was lost in the sharpness to his gaze or the proud stance the fighter took. His reputation alone often preceded him, of stories comprising heroism and fighting noble causes. Here was a man of legends.

"And no explanation on your guest?" Caius asked the Dunmer. "You failed to mention you knew him."

"I wasn't aware the Blades had to know who my friends are." Saber retorted defensively. "And its not as though you'd believe me anyway."

"_The Blades?"_ Merthisan gasped upon hearing the elusive spywork mentioned. He turned to give the thief a stunned look. His gaze even passed over Eiryn who remained oddly silent through their meeting, only now discovering 'what' she was. "You mean the Emperor's _spies_?"

"It wasn't my idea." The elf muttered in disgust. A sharp glare was directed towards Caius. "I was sort of pressed into service."

The spymaster ignored him, keeping focused on their new arrival. "Master Kendari, Eiryn mentioned something about a threat to Saber-"

"False alarm." Saber voice cut like a razor's edge, another topic he obviously had no wish to discuss. His tone warned Merthisan off the subject as well. He had enough to deal with than worry about a rumored imposter in the lands of Morrowind. The providence of Vvardenfell was pretty tight when it came to who entered and left, leaving very little room for an assasin to sneak into the borders without the authorities knowing. Even if this 'Nekros' had, however, Saber felt certain this was only an imposter and no real threat, certainly not enough to concern the spymaster. Nekros and any of his imposter might have been formidable when he was a boy, but Saber was an experienced swordsman, skilled thief, and no fool when it came to being stalked. He'd handle this matter on his own when the time came.

Merthisan Kendari scowled back at him, and drew himself up to his full height. He was only slightly taller than Saber, but was still a daunting figure. "Where are your manners, boy? Are you going to introduce me or not?"

Both Eiryn and her father were stunned by the rigid authority the man seemed to have over the cocky thief. Resigned, Saber made formal introductions, opting to stand back against a wall to let them talk without him, or about him for that matter. He didn't look happy at all.

"I am honored to meet a master of the Blades' Guild." Merthisan gave a polite bow. "As you should know, my skills and my sword are ever in service to his Imperial majesty."

"That's good to hear." Caius smiled, satisfied the loyalty of the man was in the right place. Again, he wondered how, in the all that served Justice, did this thief befriend the world's most famous swordsman? Did this man have any idea of Saber's dark past? And who trained him? "Your reputation is well known, even in Vvardenfell. I believe your duty will suffice in allowing me to explain Saber's purpose here."

Both men seemed entirely too smug for Saber's tastes who made an audible sniff of distain. "You're going to love this, Merth." He snorted, quieting to give the spymaster the silence to relate the story of his coming to be the Incarnate.

Caius was a pretty good storyteller, Saber thought, except he didn't embellish nor exaggerate details. The spymaster also didn't have a clue of all the side quests he had to endure to gain the needed information for this mission. The story remained mostly facts, lacking the usual drama one might expect from this sort of tale, to the point of bluntness. He'd never carry himself a bard, the thief mused.

Saber had up until now assumed he was gathering this information on the prophesy for someone else, or the very least, by the Emperor's whim. With the recent realization of Prophecy however, things were growing ever more clear that the Incarnate was to free Morrowind of the Sixth House's curse. By the time Caius admitted to him the Emperor's plans, Saber was furious, and though he'd never admit it, his anger stemmed from a deep-seated fear. He wanted his life to be his own, his fate to his decision.

Upon his arrival to Morrowind, the thief had an odd dream where Azura herself spoke words of encouragement. At the time, however, Saber had dismissed the visions as nothing more than seasickness on board the vessel bound to Morrowind. Now, however, the visions of ashstorms, and places he'd never seen before, haunted him with the inevitable Fate hanging over his head. And there were other dreams as well, and this recent development of the Sixth House priest calling him Lord Neverar. This shook him to the core, yanking into the grim reality that things were not as they seemed. Each step seemed to take him further to a providence not of his own choosing, and this disturbed him greatly.

The Dunmer took wicked delight in seeing his mentor's face contort through various emotions ranging from disbelief, to shock, to even a hint of pride. He had, after all, trained Saber in his skills as a fighter. He also wanted Saber to be more like a hero, which by the Prophecy, he would become. When Caius finished, an uneasy silence filled the small room.

"Feryl…? As the Neveravine?" Merthisan had never even heard of the prophecy until now. In fact, knew little about Dark Elves as a whole save for the errant thief he tried to instill some values in. "And he's some Dunmer general reborn?"

"I didn't think so at first." Caius admitted, with a shrug. "But in light of recent events…I'm not so sure now. We'll know more once the Lost Prophecies are found and brought to the wisewoman of the Ashlander camp of the Urshilaku." He turned to the Dunmer who remained with folded arms and disbelieving expression on his face. "I've been in touch with Mehres Milo in Vivec City. See if you can speak with her, but I warn you. She thinks she's being watched by the Ordinators."

Saber nodded slowly from his corner. The Ordinators were the guardsmen of the holy City of Vivec, ones he'd managed to keep a respectful distance from. By their reputation alone, he knew to stay clear of trouble in Vivec. Members of the thieves' guild had warned him on more than one occasion of the dangers of crossing one of these holy guardsmen. He hardly wanted to face down zealot warrior-priests. Cross them, and you soon found yourself at the sharp end of every sword within their ranks. They tended to kill first, ask questions later.

"Yes, she mentioned her concerns the last time I spoke with her." On gathering information about the Nerevarine, Saber had met this woman, Milo Mehres, in the Hall of Wisdom where she had access to all manner of information through the substantial Library there.

Mehres had extensive knowledge on the group known as the 'dissendant priests'. They disputed Temple doctrine, spouting that the Tribunal received their divinity through sorcery and not, in fact, divine. Naturally, they were often hunted down and presecuted by the Temple. Mehres was taking bold chances speaking on this matter. If she was being watched, Saber considered to himself, it might only be a matter of time before she was arrested.

"If you discover something has gone wrong," Caius continued, "Find her quarters, she'll leave you a message there under a code word 'amaya'."

"Understood."

"Once you find her, she can help you find the lost prophecies, then return to Nibani at the Urshilaku camp." Caius revealed another bag of coin to help in expenses. "I believe the wisewoman can test you further then."

"To see if I am this Incarnate, do doubt." Saber scoffed in obvious repugnance on the matter. "And if I'm not?"

It was a question Eiryn herself had often considered. What if he wasn't the Nerevarine? It was said, there had been other False Incarnates, but none had come to fruition. If they discovered he was not to be the Incarnate, Morrowind would continue to face the onslaught of Blight and Corprus beasts, the horrible ash storms, and Dagoth Ur coming to power. There was also the consideration of what happens to Saber should he prove to be the petty rogue who professed to be? Would he return to Cyrodil, or be released from his duties, or did they have something else in mind for him to do?

Caius waved a dismissive hand. "I assume you'd be free to do as you please then." By his tone, Eiryn felt her father expected the Dunmer to do that very thing. "It's for the Emperor to have the final say."

"Of course." The elf muttered. "And I suppose if I am, then I save all of Morrowind?"

The spymaster's face settled into a scowl. "That's the general idea."

"Saber, enough." Merthisan cut in. He could recognize the rise of insolance in the elf, knowing where it could lead to if left unchecked. "I suppose you're not one to believe you could be the Incarnate?"

"Are you serious?" The elf gaped, "If, in fact, the whole prophecy is real at all, can you seriously consider that I could be the Nereravine? Me? The Incarnate?"

"It would explain a great deal…" Merthisan smiled.

Saber tilted his head to one side, very preplexed that master Kendari would take such a stance on this matter. Wasn't this the same man who lectured him on right and wrong, or pressured him to forego the life of crime? "Such as?"

Now Caius and Eiryn both were at attention, listening avidly to the Imperial. Apparantly, here was a man who knew more about this elusive thief than anyone else in the world. "If you recall, you had a natural affinity to the sword. I've never seen anyone that came so natural to fighting and strategy." He said, "You learn quickly, and rarely did I have to repeat myself-"

Something in Saber's eyes seemed shadowed, as he grew restless under their combined scrutiny. "It means nothing." He dismissed the swordsman's words with a quick wave of his hand, his words sharped and edged. "I had to learn in order to survive…that is all. If the Emperor wants me to play my role in this Prophecy, then I have little choice in the matter. I'm doing this because there is the threat of returning me to prison, Merth." Red eyes flickered over to Caius and Eiryn, almost as if daring them to rebuke what he told them. "I'm no hero, and wouldn't you think that if I were some ancient Dunmer general reborn, I'd have some idea that I was?"

Caius coughed to clear his throat. "You still have your orders, regardless of what is truth or superstition." He scratched his chin showing a couple days' growth of beard. "There is one more thing that needs to be discussed."

Saber somehow expected a lecture or reprimmand, being that was something Caius tended to do almost as much as Merthisan Kendari did. However, his next words startled him, leaving him speechless.

"I've been recalled to the Imperial City."

Almost in unison, both Eiryn and Saber spoke at the same time, "What?"

The spymaster ran fingers through his thinning hair, looking suddenly ill at ease. "This morning I just received my orders to return post haste to the Imperial City in Cyrodil. Its internal politics, things I can't really get into."

Eiryn was stunned. "You're leaving Morrowind?" How could he be recalled with what Saber had to discover, with the threat of the Sixth House looming at hand? Who was to lead the Blades in his absence? Why hadn't he mentioned any 'internal politics' up to now?

"Not forever, Eiryn." He replied softly. "But I have no idea when I will be returning. The Emperor's health is declining. His succession is causing a stir among various factions where they are moving into advantage. Many believe civil war might be in the near future."

Merthisan nodded with a grim look. "The city was growing restless when I left. Many nobles have already traveled abroad in order to escape the approaching conflicts."

Caius splayed hands. "Either case, I'm to return to the Imperial City immediately." He faced Saber, his featured softening. "And I'm promoting you to Operative, which makes you the ranking Blade here in Balmora."

The Dunmer seemed to be waiting for the end of the joke. When Caius remained steadfast to his decision, Saber frowned. "Ranking Blade-?" He shrugged. "And that means?"

The spymaster folded arms across his chest, giving his most stern expression to let them know he was earnest. "That means you follow the Prophecy, and focus on that. I won't be here to guide you further, but I'm confident you will land on your feet. So far, you've done marvelously well. You're promoted to Operative mostly to preserve your independence. That is the reason why I'm promoting you. I may be gone a while, and you'll have expenses. This house is yours to use while I'm gone as well."

Saber still wasn't sure to believe him, that Caius would no longer be giving orders. "I thought you didn't trust me…"

Caius cocked an eyebrow, "I'm still not sure that I do, but truthfully, you have yet to let me down." It was the closest thing to a compliment he'd given the brash thief. Before Saber could respond with a reply, the spymaster cut him off. "Frankly after taking some time to think on the matter, I believe I underestimated you all along. In all the duties set upon you, you're actions have been nothing but exemplenary. You've accomplished more in a short amount of time, than what I would find with any other Blade." He paused to let a smile touch his mouth, an odd quirky grin. "I can't think of anyone more qualified for the job."

Saber was literally struck dumb. Several times his mouth opened as if to speak then shut it. Unable to respond he opted to simply nod and look away. All he could think was there was some terrible mistake, some mixup to why he was chosen to fulfill this Prophecy. Surely the real Nereravine would come forth and claim the title.

"When are you leaving?" Eiryn asked the spymaster. Part of her wondered briefly if he expected her to join him, but now it seemed unlikely. The secrecy of their relationship hadn't changed.

"Tomorrow." Caius replied, "I've already contacted the other Blades, and told them what is going on. They know what is expected of them. They will offer their assistance if needed. Otherwise, the guild members will receive orders through courier in my absence." He turned back to Saber. "For the time being, the Prophecy was taking precedence over all other quests."

"Find the lost Prophecies, save all of Morrowind." Saber muttered to himself, shaking his head at the words spoken out loud. "Seems simple enough."

"Turn to your fellow Blades for help if you need it." Caius told him, pointedly looking at both Eiryn and their newest member Merthisan. "I will be getting reports on your progress."

Merthisan remained standing, with an odd smile on his face, almost admiring the elf's quest. He had faced a number of his own near-impossible missions during his lifetime, having the scars to prove it, and for him, saving Morrowind from the evil Sixth House was a noble cause. Saber's face pinched at the look, "I need a drink." He said, "Are we done here?"

Caius nodded slowly, "I'll be gone tomorrow, so feel free to live here in my absence."

All Saber could do is give a digusted look around, and take his exit. He could care less for having a free place to stay. His entire time within Morrowind had never faced a problem of not having a bed to sleep in. He wasn't that picky. But if Merthisan was staying, perhaps he could have more use for the single room apartment, or at least Eiryn-

His thoughts died, as he turned to see the young woman sitting with wide eyes and stiff mouth. She had said so little upon his return, though he knew she was happy to see him. "Are you coming?" He asked her, seeing her face brighten like the dawn. Ah, that was it. Perhaps she considered he was ignoring her. Her smile warmed him, lightening his mood as she scampered to his side.

Merthisan grunted, also readying to leave. "You promised me an explanation, and a very large beer." He reminded the elf, slapping him hard on the back.

"I think we all need one…" Saber replied, taking a brief moment in the doorway to look back at Caius. "Did you want to come along?"

Startled the spymaster stiffened his posture, and gray eyes widened. "Me?" For a second he lost composure, surprised that Saber was actually inviting him along as well. He considered refusing, but with three pairs of eyes staring back at him, and each one seeming to want his company, how could he refuse? "Sure, why not?"

The small band of 'spies' headed out into the night, opting to visit the Eight Plates tavern rather the South Wall filled with thieves, or the Council Club that would not likely welcome a band of rough characters. Saber was definitely spending his gold tonight to help drown his thoughts on the worries of today.


	19. Ch 19 A bit of background

Chapter 19 A Bit of Background.

"To service, honor, and justice." Merthisan lifted his tankard of exotic beer in the crowded room of the Eight Plates pub. Eiryn clinked her own cup of wine against his, Caius' wineglass followed, but Saber remained aloof and distaining of the toast. He pointedly leaned back in his chair to kick feet up on an empty chair beside him and sip his beer instead.

"I would rather drink to something more tangible." He said, bowing his head slightly towards Eiryn. "Such as a beautiful woman, or to riches."

Master Kendari raised an eyebrow, and then shook his head. "You haven't changed a whit." He murmured. "I had hoped you'd learn the error of your ways in your time in prison."

Saber chuckled at this. It was an old argument, one that never seemed to never tire between the two of them. "Still trying to save me from myself, eh Merth?" He grinned. Whatever Merthisan could say of the 'error' of his ways, Saber's philosophy had kept him alive all these years, to which he had no intention of changing now. He could never imagine himself following 'duty' as the old master had, and as for justice, well…Saber had firsthand experience at the hands of Imperial guards now and then to see the true error of Merth's philosophy. Despite Merth's insistence upon honor and duty, Saber felt he did just fine on his own.

Caius had remained quiet up to now, and finally felt it prudent to ask, "How did the two of you meet?" Eiryn's interest was also piqued.

At first, Saber seemed reluctant to speak about the matter, but Kendari was more than happy to share the story, perhaps a bit to embarrass Saber while doing so. "He stole a sword from me."

Eiryn burst into laughter, while Caius simply covered his mouth to hide the smile behind it. Eiryn remembered the Dunmer mention of his acquiring the blade from his old master, but had failed to mention anything at all about he'd stolen it from him! Saber directed a surprised look in her direction, as if curious to why she felt this was so funny.

"I was a thief after all." He shrugged.

Merthisan took another swig of his beer. "The little whelp thought he could come into my training school and steal whatever he wanted." Wrinkles formed around his eyes as he tried with effort to not smile.

Saber rolled eyes, trying hard to hide his smirk. "Like it was even a challenge-"

The swordsman grunted a laugh, cutting him off. "So I find this elf boy creeping into one of my training room where I keep upon the high walls some of the best swords in my arsenal. He managed to pole-vault himself on one of the weapon frames and took that-" A finger jabbed towards the wire wrapped hilt poking from behind the Dunmer in his sheath. "I told him, on no uncertain terms, he was to drop the weapon-"

Saber mimicked by poking his finger back at his old mentor. "Don't forget to tell them how you had to practically beat me senseless."

Eiryn felt the elf had hoped to mar the old swordmaster's reputation , but Merthisan only snickered, shared by the amused audience he now had. "I never met such a stubborn boy. He refused to yield. I told him to drop the sword, and surrender, but he tried to run for it. After a few blows with the flat of my blade, I finally had to hit him with the pommel of my sword to get him to remain still. I won't go into details-"

"That would be a first." Saber muttered under his breath.

"But suffice to say, that is how we met." Merthisan finished, disregarding the snide comment. With a dramatic lift of his mug, he raised his drink to toast the thief before him, and Saber did the same.

"But he still has the sword." Eiryn pointed out. There was surely more to the story than just that?

The swordmaster squinted a smile at her. "I think that's a story for Saber to tell."

"Nothing really to tell." Saber added too quickly, confirming that most of the story was something he'd prefer not to share in mixed company. "I tried to give it back later, but by then I had freed myself of a rather cruel master and Merth offered to train me. I _earned_ the sword then." His mentor nodded in accord.

"And you were formally trained by Master Kendari?" Caius still sounded doubtful. His gaze kept flickering back and forth between the contradictory men before him. The 'cruel master' could only be Nekros. Did master Kendari know this?

The swordmaster waved hands to catch his attention. "Not exactly what you'd consider 'formally trained'. You see he was a thief, and for some reason, wanted to remain so-" Clearly Merthisan had no idea why he'd want to. "I couldn't very well accept him into my training school in any official capacity. I gave him lessons, but if you were to see Saber fight, you'd see a unique style. Not mine entirely."

"I learned from various places." Saber shrugged, "Enough to get by."

Eiryn chewed her bottom lip in thought, considering what the elf must've been like as a youth. It was too hard to imagine as anything but how he was now, a swaggering, albeit reluctant, hero. There was still something very boyish about his manner, his playful nature and his humor, so very unlike Dunmer she knew. Nonetheless, he could also prove a formidable foe as well. She'd seen that when he killed the Dreamer that had attacked her. There was no regret to killing the man, not even hesitation to slitting his throat. "And you've been friends ever since."

"Oh Saber has his faults-" Merthisan told her, ignoring the rude noise the elf made as well as the dramatic roll of his eyes, "And believe me, we've had our arguments. But he's done some good things in his life, and has a good heart, if you look hard enough."

"Enough Merth. Stop, before you ruin my reputation here in the lands of Morrowind." The Dunmer smirked. That drew out a light chuckle from Caius.

Saber had, up to this point had not even used the honorific 'master' when speaking to the swordsman. That seemed odd, but then again, Saber didn't seem the type to hold much respect for titles. Only now, Eiryn realized how little about him she knew him.

The evening wore on with casual conservation, consisting of light talk of adventures, and everyone explaining the wonders of the Morrowind to Master Kendari. He was a well traveled man, but had never ventured as far as the providence of Vvardenfell. The wildlife and customs of the Dunmer Houses intrigued him as Saber shared stories of his adventures upon arriving to the wild shores of the Bitter Coast region. He'd earned quite a bit of gold by ransacking smuggler caves the first few months, then shifted to earning coin by odd quests and jobs he'd find along the way. Caius added a few tales of life as a Blade in his younger days, and Eiryn was content to simply sit back and listen while sipping her wine.

As the hour grew late, Merth finally had to admit the foreign beers of Morrowind were too much for him, and decided to return to the Council Club where he rented a room. Caius knew he had a long trip ahead of him the next morning, so he also opted to leave for the night. This left Eiryn to have Saber all to herself, and nag him with questions she wasn't comfortable asking in front of the others.

"So why didn't you formally train with Master Kendari?" She inquired, moving closer to finally get a chance to snuggle against him. The familiar scent of the guarskin leather he wore filled her senses, mixed with the sweetness of Matze on his breath.

He let her sit on his lap, wrapping a protective arm around her waist. A smile warmed his face, while lips teased her throat. "The city guard at the time knew a dark elf had something to do with Nekros' death. I didn't want to get Merth into trouble." He murmured, nuzzling against her throat. "Besides…the thought of having to live by someone's else rules was distasteful, even that of Master Kendari."

"And what of this news Merthisan brought you?" She persisted, feeling his body immediately tense against her. "He said someone was after you."

He drew back, looking guarded. "I told you, false alarm."

"Liar."

Saber leaned back in the chair to appraise her, to see how far she was going to continue pressing him for details. "Now why would you think I was lying?"

"Because Master Kendari was adamant of the danger you are in, and you're as tense as a bow string. " She ran a hand down the front of the leather cuirass he was still wearing and even under the guarskin hide, she could still feel the muscle flinch. "Who is after you?"

The Dunmer clasped her hand, and subsequently kissed her palm. The gentle caress sent shivers up her spine. "Trust me…its nothing."

_He doesn't want to talk about it_, she thought. _And why? Was it because it's more serious than I can realize, or is he trying to protect me?_ Perhaps in the morning he'd feel more talkative. For now, she let the matter go and leaned over to kiss him full on the mouth, enjoying the receptiveness and nudge to retire for the evening.

"I missed you…" He whispered.

Eiryn couldn't reply due to the kiss he planted upon her lips, but then, she didn't have to. He knew she missed him as well, and soon they slipped into her cramped room she rented at the Eight Plates. A single cot barely fit the two of them, but they managed. Illuminated the windowless room, a single candle cast fireglow against the pale adobe walls.

Later as they lay entwined, Eiryn rested her head against his shoulder, feeling the light touch of trailing fingers along the middle of her back where Saber kept her close against him. She draped a leg over his, wrapped an arm across his chest and enjoyed listening to his account of the lost time.

He recounted in more detail the trip to the Sixth Shrine base, the arduous maze of caverns, the confrontation with Dagoth Gares. To this, Eiryn propped her head up on a bent elbow. "And he called you by the name of Lord Nerevar?"

Saber shrugged, looking up the ceiling in contemplation. "I don't know what to think about that. I think the Sixth House somehow knows the Emperor's plans and perhaps called me that to mock me." He glanced at her curiously. "You realize there have been other false Incarnates? In fact, I've heard there's one even now telling everyone who has ears that he will drive out the foreign dogs from Morrowind."

"Really?"

He nodded looking grim. ""Last I heard, he was in Suran and the Temple was very nervous about this. Word from some sources say they might have him killed. The other Incarnate was a young girl who grew up among the Ashlander tribes." He shrugged with a sigh. He wanted someone else to be the Nerevarine, anyone else but him. "She disappeared however. Some think she's been killed, possibly even by the Temple."

Eiryn bit her bottom lip in thought, remembering the words of the wisewoman Nibani. She seemed to imply that anyone could walk the path of the Nerevarine, but only one would come to culmination. Would Saber face the same fate as the others? "So tomorrow, will you go to Vivec to find this Mehres Milo?" She changed the subject.

Saber responded with a quick nod and snuggled against her in the narrow bed. "I suppose you'll want to come with me?"

Why did it sound like he didn't want her to go? Eiryn tensed. "A stilt strider could take you directly to the city of Vivec. You hardly need a scout for that, now do you?" Her tone came out a bit more sullen than she wanted, but if he didn't want her along, she'd not press the issue any more.

Shifting to lie sideways, propping his head on a bent elbow, Saber scrutinized her face and reaction. A long finger trailed along her jawline, tickling sensitive skin and focusing on the gentle curve of her mouth. "If you want to go, just say so."

"If you want me to go, just say so." She replied, looking at him directly, daring him to ask her.

His eyes blinked slowly, the pupils an orange-red in the dim light of the room. "Of course I want you to go." He murmured, leaning over to kiss her gently on the corner of her mouth. "Its just that finding someone in that warren of a city isn't going to be fun, let alone exciting."

"A challenge though." Eiryn told him, "I'm good at finding people in cities. Maybe you ought to check out local brothels." It was a quipped remark of when they met in Suran in the Earthly Delights.

He snickered softly, rolling closer to rest his head along her shoulder. "Then I guess you'll have to come with me. Though I doubt Mehres would be anywhere near a brothel."

"What's she like?"

Saber measured her tone for jealousy and wasn't certain if she was or not. "She's Dunmer." His words were as if that her race was enough to describe what type of woman she was. Eiryn knew it meant Mehres was most likely reserved and aloof like much of the Dark Elves of Morrowind. This led her thought elsewhere.

"Why are you so different?" Eiryn asked, touching his face to admire the plane of his jaw, the playful twitch of his mouth.

The arched brows shot up. "Different?"

"You know you're different than other Dark Elves. Why is that?" She asked. "Most are dour, humorless beings. Why are you so different?"

He thought a moment on her question, looking up at the ceiling in thought. "I wasn't raised by Dark Elves." He offered. "But I don't think I'm that unusual. Here in Morrowind, my kinsmen seem to relish their dark heritage. I admit that Dunmer tend to be rather serious for the most part, but not all of them."

"If you weren't raised by dark elves, then who raised you?" She asked him. Almost immediately, she regretted the question as she remembered Nekros had been the one who raised him. Briefly, she considered what it must have been like. Clearly, he didn't wish to speak of such matter, but tried to explain an answer to her.

"I'm not sure the term 'raised' is what would define my upbringing." He said slowly, not looking at her. Eiryn could see the memories pass over his face as he remembered his childhood. "After Nekros was gone, I suppose Merth became something of a father figure to me, but there were others on the streets of the Imperial City that became my friends." Now he did look at her, forcing a smile on his face. "But I think it was my friend Lyra who taught me to be civilized and I suppose that is where I get my humor."

Oddly enough, Eiryn felt no jealousy to this unknown woman who knew Saber before her. Oh, perhaps a tad since this woman knew him longer, had shared years of their lives together. Eiryn had to remind herself, he'd had plenty of women, probably too many she'd care to even know about. This woman, however, held a special place in his heart.

"Do you still love her?" The question might have sounded like it was spawned out of jealousy, but Eiryn wasn't so sure. She wanted to meet Lyra one day, to ask her about the mysteries of Saber.

"Not like you think I do." He smirked, brushing her hair back from her face. Fingers tucked the hair behind her ear, then trailed down her cheek as he spoke. "She was family to me in many ways, a close friend in others. I will tell you she was also my first, but our relationship had no oaths or bindings outside of friendship. We're still friends."

On impulse, Eiryn moved closer and kissed him on the mouth, feeling desire swell within. He deepened the kiss, encircling arms around her and soon they were both lost in each other's embrace.

Late under the cover of night, a wood elf skittered like a rat down a darkened ally of Balmora. A furtive glance over his shoulder checked to see if anyone followed. His dark eyes shifted nervously to any movement that might be in the shadows, but as yet, found nothing. Lank hair fell across his face as he quickly brushed the curtain aside.

"Why hadn't I found a wife and moved to the mainland by now?" He chided himself for getting mixed up with all this. "I'm too old to be doing this-"

"Have you found him?" A voice rasped next to his ear. The elf jumped, backpedaling furiously as he gasped in terror from the larger shadow looming over him now. It seemed to appear from the very darkness surrounding them. All darkness, without any face the elf could see in the recesses of the cloak. An odd laugh echoed in the alleyway, low and menacing. "What's wrong, Fargoth? I didn't scare you did I?"

Fargoth's eyes bulged as his mouth worked, releasing a pathetic squeak of fear. The figure shifted closer, causing the Bosmer to cringe in terror.

"Well? Did you find him?" The voice unnerved the elf, sounding as if spoken over glass. "I'm not known for my patience…"

"Not….not yet." Fargoth stammered, clutching hands against his chest. He huddled against a wall, not wanting to know anything more of this man than he already did. "He's here, I followed him to Balmora. I'm sure to find him soon. I just need a little more time."

The shadow shifted ever so closer. "More time?" It hissed. "I've waited too long already. And you know not to engage him. You must tell me if you find him. I will deal with him directly."

Fargoth swallowed back fear and bile. "Yes, of course. I will do as you say."

The shadow gurgled a low chuckle. "See to it that you do, Fargoth."

The shadow slipped back into the darkness and disappeared. The elf blinked his eyes several times, not sure if the man was a master of stealth or simply dissolved into the darkness. Something about him didn't seem human, despite his size and shape of being a man. Fargoth had even seen an ungloved hand bearing a peculiar dragon tattoo upon the palm. Strange, the mark didn't appear as anything the Bosmer recognized of Morrowind factions.


	20. Ch 20 Holy City of Vivec

Ch 20 The Holy City of Vivec

"Wake up. We're here." A voice nudged Eiryn from her nap on board the strider bound to Vivec, and it seemed she'd only just shut her eyes before Saber poked her in her ribs. Had the time passed so quickly?

Blinking against sleep-blurred vision, she gathered her pack to follow the Dunmer down the strider port. The day was warm and sunny, too warm for cloaks. Eiryn donned a simple cotton shirt with her usual guar-skin breeches, while Saber wore a finer shirt of red silk with a snug vest. His cloak, he kept slung over a shoulder to help pad the heavy backpack slung on an arm. Behind them followed Master Kendari, wearing a blue tunic hemmed in light brown with dark trousers and heavy leather boots. His long sword belted at his side, he settled the pack across broad shoulders better before finally stepping off the ramp.

Eiryn had been surprised that Saber agreed to allow his old master to come along, being the thief had been a loner for most of his quests. Not that he needed either of their help, but she strongly suspected it was because he knew the swordmaster might want to see the largest city in the province of Vvardenfell, and of course, wanted Eiryn by his side.

The scout glanced behind her as she realized the swordmaster had paused in his walking. Merthisan Kendari stood with mouth agape at the huge pyramid structure before them. Standing nearly three levels high, the massive construction was made of marble and carved stonework. Ramps led skyward to the upper levels, with the topmost having a splendid domed ceiling with green glass windows wrapping around the base. Two huge banners of livid colors draped near the bridge that led into the city, with ancient Aldmeri scrawl to indicate direction through the city. Walkways were wide, built with more large stone. One would think entire armies could travel on them with little trouble. In short, the city was awe-inspiring.

Named after one of the living gods of Morrowind, the holy city of Vivec was where Lord Vivec resided in his palace north of the metropolis. It was the largest settlement in the lands of the Dark Elves, comprised of a series of huge structures called cantons, each one a settlement unto itself. Each canton interconnected with bridges made of the same ornate stonework, with water canals flowing between them. Nearly three stories high, the topmost level had the manors and prosperous traders, while the lower levels had the poor and more of the simple merchants and traders.

"By the Nine Divines…" Merthisan breathed in awe. "So this is Vivec City."

"Part of it." Saber grinned, nudging Eiryn with an elbow to share in his humor at his old master's reaction. "This is Foreign Quarter, one of nine cantons you'll find here."

"One of _nine?"_ Merthisan gasped, with eyes wide. From where they stood, a morning fog obscured the rest of the city's buildings.

Saber nodded, motioning them to follow. "I told you it was a big city."

Eiryn looked skyward, almost dizzy with the height of the slanting walls of the canton. She often come to Vivec for various reasons such as guiding tourists, running messages between merchants, or on occasion to visit a shrine for healing. The city also boasted an impressive arena where gladiators would battle for coin, or the Great Houses would have challengers to fight for honor, on occasion even to the death. Each time, she found the city left her overwhelmed by its size and creative architecture.

Saber led them up the ramp to the higher level of the Foreign Quarter, explaining more as to what to find there. "The Foreign Quarter used to be the only canton 'outlanders' were allowed, but recently Lord Vivec has relaxed the laws in regard to that." He explained, opening a curved door for them to enter into the structure. "In each canton, the higher you go, the more well-to-do you'll find."

Inside the massive building was less than inspiring. No windows meant for a darker environment. Intermittent torches cast warm fireglow and even wafted a pleasant scent of fragrance in the oil they used. The perfume scent took off the edge of cold stone and the moist air from the canals below the building.

Ceilings were low. Hallways were narrow, with everything gathering in the center to a small courtyard. Stone planters held the exotic plants of Morrowind, including the glowing green and purple mushrooms one would find in the Ascadian region. For the most part, however, one might consider the closed in environment rather hemmed in comparison to the impressive exterior.

Saber led them directly to the Black Shaulk Cornerclub where a banner had a dark beetle emblazoned on the red cloth. Eiryn saw Merthisan's quizzical expression. "Shaulk beetles are large insects you find in the Ashlands." She explained, as he held the door open for her.

"Once we're settled," Saber spoke to them, "I need to see if I can find Merhra." He handed his pack to Merthisan to hold as he turned to the publican behind the bar. Rooms for rent were set at reasonable prices, but, unfortunately, the Black Shaulk had only the one room. They'd have to share.

This didn't bother the Dunmer in the least bit. "I'm not planning to stay long anyway." He shrugged, handing the coin over and motioning in the direction to their room. His voice lowered, "And bear in mind that if she can't be found, I might have to rescue her. That will mean a hasty retreat from the fair city."

"Rescue?" Eiryn whispered back.

He jerked his chin for her to keep moving down the descending ramp to the rooms below. "I need those lost prophecies. If Milo ended up in the hands of the ordinators, then I believe the next step is finding her and help her escape."

Merthisan scowled, not liking the sound of it. "Rescue from the _Temple_ _Ordinators_? Are you insane?"

The elf flashed a mischievous grin. "You have to ask?"

It was Merthisan's turn to roll eyes at his protégé, which was answer enough. "And what if you are caught?" He countered.

Saber gave a light chuckle. "There's the challenge!" He gave Eiryn a wink before entering the small room. It was a sparsely decorated room with a large closet for guest's things, an oversized bed, and a small table with complimentary Sujamma and goblets.

Eiryn had to grimace as she remembering the last experience with the Dunmer whiskey. "No thanks." She told Saber as he offered her some.

"So what do we do to find this Milo person?" Merthisan asked, tucking his pack in the corner of the room.

The Dunmer scooped Eiryn up in a playful hug, even giving a low growl next to her ear as he pinned her in his arms. "I'll find Merhra myself. That shouldn't take too long. Eiryn, meanwhile, will give you a tour of the city." He announced, adding a quick kiss to the side of her head.

"I will?" Eiryn asked befuddled at what he was telling them.

Merthisan didn't like the idea. "Wouldn't it be faster if you had three people looking for her-?"

Saber was already shaking his head. "Not if the Ordinators have her already in custody. We don't want to bring attention to ourselves. I work better at this type of thing alone. The both of you have the day to explore, and I'll try to find Merhra." He told them. "We'll meet back here for dinner."

"And if you try to rescue her-?" Merthisan asked him.

"A rescue from the Ministry of Truth will take planning." Saber assured him. "Believe me, there will be no rescue today. We'll all meet back here by nightfall."

Still within the embrace of his arms, Eiryn leaned back against him. "And you won't get caught, right?"

His deep wine-colored eyes twinkled in silent laughter. "Me? Caught? I wasn't planning on it."

"S'wit." She smacked him playfully.

Eiryn watched the Dunmer walk off towards the Temple Library with a conceited swagger in his gait. It looked disproportionate to the costume he bore in the hopes of putting of any suspicions. Forgoing his usual dark leather and clothes, Saber donned a simple robe of homespun green to masquerade as a pilgrim wandering the walkways of the city in search of enlightenment. He disappeared past the Arena canton where he left Eiryn and Merth to explore on his own.

"I still say he should use our help." Master Kendari murmured behind her.

She only now realized Saber brought them along to the city for company. He never intended of either them to help find this woman Merhra, let alone the lost prophecies. Eiryn wasn't sure it was a good thing or a bad thing he considered them a hindrance, so instead, she pushed out any thoughts and led the sword master to the ramps leading up to the arena.

"Saber has a point." She spoke over her shoulder to the man following her now. "Three people looking for this woman might raise suspicions."

"I suppose." Merthisan's tone took on a sullen note.

"C'mon." She smiled back at him. "You'll like the arena. The fights will start soon, and we can make some bets."

The muffled atmosphere of the substantial Vivec library carried an aroma of old books and ink, with the hushed voices of the librarians intermingling with the pilgrims that frequented this place. Here one could find a number of books to peruse, having the massive collection of history and literature from all over Tamriel.

Many books on the Nerevarine prophecy the Temple banned for heresy. Not surprisingly, this included books about the Nerevarine and his ultimate return, as well as any topic the Temple regarded as dangerous to the masses. The whole concept of fulfilling this prophecy flabbergasted Saber. The very idea that the Emperor of Tamriel took this seriously unnerved him enough, but to actually try to comprehend such a mission only served the Dunmer to consider the Emperor as insane.

Saber mulled about the Library long enough to know that Merhra Milo was nowhere to be found. Only a few students, a handful of mages, and the ever-present guard of the city's Ordinators occupied the Library.

Measuring the assistants for what they might know of the woman's whereabouts, Saber choose a young Dunmer intent on a heavy book before him. He stood against the lector, engrossed in his words that when Saber coughed to gain his attention, the man jerked back in surprise. His red gaze turning sharp as he realized Saber stood next to him.

"Can I help you?" The Dark Elf asked with annoyance. He obviously didn't want to be disturbed.

"I was wondering if you might know where I can find Merhra Milo." Saber murmured to him, being sure that none of the Ordinators guards patrolling the area could hear him.

"Merhra?" The Dunmer said, "If she is not here, she might be in her quarters. You'll find them near the Canon offices."

Saber thanked him with a polite bow and headed towards her quarters. _I have a bad feeling about this…._

The arena of Vivec City was impressive by any standard, Eiryn mused to herself. Here, gladiators and duelists vied for titles while plays and other amusements would take place, including shows with trained animals or even acrobats. The oval-shaped coliseum filled the topmost level of the canton, having a massive dome with green glass to cast a warm glow over the spectators.

Standing amid the tiered seats, Eiryn sat watching a fierce battle between two equally matched Khajiits. Short swords and small rounded steel shields also equaled their fight, but one was clearly more skilled. Before them, a duel between a Redguard and Nord left many spectators still talking of who lost their bet. Merthisan was enjoying himself, gauging his own talents against the combatants, while Eiryn sat back to enjoy the uproar of the audience.

As the fight ended with one a victor, Merthisan asked if they let anyone accept challenges.

"Anyone can setup a duel." She explained, pointing to where the trap door was the only exit and entrance to the fighting area. "Down below is the dressing rooms and storage area, as well as training rooms for the gladiators. I believe there is an Arena master you speak with to setup a fight. Did you want to fight?"

"Ah, no. I can't think of wasting time on competition fights." He laughed, motioning they best head back to the Black Shaulk Inn. The day was waning, and both were getting hungry. "I'm getting too old, and fighting is best for the foolhardy."

"Well that doesn't eliminate Saber now does it?" She grinned back at him. Merthisan's blue eyes sparkled from too much drink and too much laughter. His mood was up, and cheeks ruddy. He also appreciated the joke.

"He's young." Merthisan shrugged, seemingly fatherly towards Saber by giving him excuses for being the way he was. "Its that cocky attitude that got him caught the last time and sent to prison."

"I get the impression its like Saber never grew up." She smirked.

To her surprise, the old swordsman grew suddenly sober. The creases near his eyes and mouth softened as he scratched his beard in thought. "He never had a childhood." Merthisan spoke softly, "Perhaps that is why he is the way he is."

Eiryn tapped fingernails against the table as impatience grew, and her concern bloomed as the evening was growing late. Their dinners were half eaten already, with Merthisan on his second helping. "He should be here by now." She muttered to master Kendari next to her. He seemed nonplussed as he ate the Nix Hound stew with crusts of bread.

"Oh Saber can take care of himself." He told her, not sure if he believed his own words or not. "He told us he wouldn't try any rescue tonight, and he's usually a man of his word."

"Usually?" Eiryn said, her face settling into a frown. She toyed with the stew in front of her, surprised the succulent thick soup didn't appeal to her. "If he's caught, how are we to even find out?"

"Easy enough to find out." A voice interrupted her.

She glanced up to find Saber looking down at her, his mouth set in a grim line. He pulled out a seat to flop down next to her, and throw a scrap of paper on the table before them. "If I were caught, you'd hear the uproar of a false Incarnate captured by the Temple." He kept his voice low, not wanting to share this information to those around them. Pointing to the note he added, "Seems Merhra had trouble after all."

Eiryn's eyes caught the words on the note;

_"Amaya, Sorry I missed you. I had to run some old documents over to the Inquisitor at the Ministry of Truth, and I'm likely to be tied up there for a while. Why don't you meet me there as soon as you can? Then we can leave together as soon as I'm done. And Amaya, don't forget to bring me two Divine Intervention scrolls you borrowed. Or, if you used them, buy a couple of new ones for me. I think I'm going need them soon. Janand Maulinie at the Mages Guild in the Foreign Quarter has them in stock. Alvela Sarem is the guard at the entrance, just tell her you're looking for me, and she'll let you in. Your Faithful Friend, Mehra _

_PS: I left a couple of Levitate potions here for you, just in case. I couldn't remember if you knew "_

Saber showed his irritation with a scowl. "Most of the note is in code. Amaya is the code word for trouble, and obviously the rest are indications as to how I'm to help her."

Merthisan looked lost as he scanned the words. He obviously couldn't read the interpretation, or reference to retrieve magical scrolls to help her escape. "How are you going to do that?"

Shaking his head, Saber waved his hand at him. "Never mind that." He told them. "I want the two of you to meet me at the Urshilaku camp. I don't know how long I will be however."

"Because you'll be rescuing her." Eiryn finished.

"And making my own escape." He nodded. "We need those prophecies. Once I have them, I'll meet you at the Ashlander camp, to speak with the wisewoman there."

"But won't you need our help?" Merthisan asked, handing back the note.

The Dunmer looked dour. "One person trying to get and out will be difficult enough. I can hardly fight my way through so this will take a bit of a delicate touch." He wiggled fingertips against one another to illustrate. "But in the meantime, the two of you do what you want while I handle this affair. You don't have to go to the camp if you don't want to-."

Eiryn had to admit she didn't like the idea of breaking into the Ministry of Truth. If he was caught, he'd face the Temple's wrath, and there was a real danger now of the whole mission being exposed. Being he was agreeing to let them join him in the Ashlands boosted her spirits though. He sounded convinced he'd make it. "Alright. But what if you get caught?"

"I have scrolls of Intervention." He assured her. The magic would send him quickly away from trouble in a blink of an eye, much like her ring of recall. Except instead of appearing in Balmora, the scrolls provided the closest Imperial Shrine. At least he'd make a quick escape. Getting Mehra free, however, was going to be the real trick.


	21. Ch 21 Stealth and Rescue

Ch 21 Lost Prophecies

Saber returned to the room of the Black Shaulk Inn to prepare for the night's 'rescue'. The plan was actually quite simple, just incredibly dangerous should he be caught. He wouldn't even need to fight his way out. In fact, just as long as he remained unknown, he could escape unscathed. Deliver the means for her to escape and leave himself- the plan sounded almost too easy. He'd have to use all that he'd learned in order to make his way into the Ministry of Truth undetected and simply give Mehra a scroll of Intervention.

Changing clothes to the darker silks and leather he preferred, the Dunmer shrouded himself in shadow. Lock picks easily slipped into the taut cloth gauntlets, with only a few throwing knives strapped onto legs and arms for 'just in case'. A quick double-check made sure nothing on his person would make a sound when he moved.

Fingerless gloves of soft leather helped in completing the garb to leave fingertips open for the use of a skillful touch, as well as working, magic. He'd prepared mostly stealth-based spells, such as chameleon and invisibility. It took a clear mind, focused and intent, which is exactly what he felt right now.

A chill went up his spine in anticipation, a shiver of thrilling exhilaration. Moments such as these, he truly felt alive. Everything he was, all the skills he'd mastered over the years, came to a head when faced with such a challenge. The Harrowing for the Urshilaku tribe or retrieving that damnable Puzzle Box for Hasphat in Balmora was exactly the type of work he loved to do. Now he had to find Mehres and help her escape.

The Dissident Priests dispute the Temple, challenging their divinity by stating they had somehow used magical means to gain their godhood, and not by blessings of the gods. They also helped record the Ashlander's verse and vision as Prophecies, writing them down for posterity. Considered heretics, the Tribunal Temple declared the priests outlawed. If any members were discovered, they were subsequently thrown into the Ministry of Truth.

Saber could've cared less about religion and anything remotely having to do with faith, but now things were taking on a different meaning for him. He couldn't help but wonder if his last visit to the city of Vivec had brought the arrest of Mehra. If the Ordinators had seen them talk, had heard even a whispered mention of the Nerevarine prophecy, then he'd put her into danger. Touched by guilt, he felt obligated to help her now.

Pulling a homespun robe over his head, he tucked hands within the large sleeves of the costume. Nothing but a pious pilgrim, he smiled inwardly. He looked every bit the part of a simple man seeking enlightenment.

_Showtime_….

Fargoth tucked his cloak tighter around his small frame as he huddled in the lee of the silt strider port. From this vantage point, few would take notice of him, and he could see everyone who came and went into the city. His only hope was this Merthisan Kendari fellow would use the strider and not consider the long walk between the settlements.

The night seemed to have grown chilly, or was it fear that caused him to shiver so? The wood elf scowled, blowing warmth breath on icy cold fingers. He wanted a warm wine with a pretty girl on his knee, not shivering in the dark doing the bidding of some madman.

The memory of that shrouded man made fear pinch his belly. He still didn't know his name, or had seen his face clearly. He was from the Imperial City by the accent, though the voice sounded horribly damaged. Perhaps the man had been mangled in some way, scarred to a monstrosity, or even afflicted with sickness. Another shudder passed through the Bosmer.

He wasn't likely to even find out. The man was insane. When he threatened Fargoth to an inch of his life, he meant every word, every detail of what manner of pain and torture that would befall him should he fail. Fargoth, not being a stupid man, knew to follow orders. It was a simple thing, wasn't it? To find a man? No harm in doing a simple task, right?

A sound made him jump. He did a great deal of jumping from shadows and unexpected noises as of late. This time, the sound was the approach of another silt strider. The large insect like creature gave a haunting call as it stopped to let off passengers on the towering ramp.

From the underway, Fargoth heard the footsteps of several passengers disembark. Voices carried down to him, and a quick glimpse above him finally gave him the lead he so desperately needed. Relief nearly choked him.

"We'll stay here in Balmora tonight, and head out for Ald Ruhn in the morning." A woman said, hoisting a backpack to her shoulder.

"And then to Maar Gan?" An older man replied. Fargoth recognized this one. This was Merthisan Kendari, from the Imperial City. "How long then before we meet Saber in the camp?"

Fargoth felt his heart nearly stop.

"He said it might take a week or so." The woman replied, leading her companion to the nearest inn. "Maar Gan is a long walk to the Urshilaku, and its dangerous. I want to be sure we have the necessary potions in case we encounter Blight."

Merthisan smiled gently to her, giving a polite bow of respect. "I am in your capable hands, dear lady." He said. "Until the morning then."

"Good night, master Kendari."

Fargoth watched from the shadows their leave taking, and finally released the breath of air he held in his lungs. Finally! A lead to this elusive Saber fellow! Skittering off into the darker end of the city, he sought out the shadow man.

Saber stood very still to the side of the wide tunnel in the recesses of the Ministry of Truth. The structure hung precariously over the High Temple in the city of Vivec. Believed to be a celestial body Lord Vivec had suspended, the Ministry of Truth had been hollowed out to provide a prison and re-education facility for the correction of heretics. Their methods were rather brutal, it was rumored.

Once stripped of the pilgrim robe, Saber levitated to the 'rock in the sky' to reach the narrow walkway snaking around the formation. The guard keeper, apparently a friend of Mehra, provided a key, and a promise to not divulge where he got it. No problem, being he did not intend to let anyone know he was even there!

Under a veil of a Chameleon spell, Saber felt the magical affects cause shivers across his skin, like cold tiny spiders crawling all over him. The first time he'd cast such a spell had him nearly rolling on the floor from the sensation. He'd since grown accustomed, and could ignore the feeling for a short period.

The trick with the Chameleon spell was to remain motionless when someone looked in your direction. Such magic was rarely 100 effective, so there was often a vague outline of the form left. The eyes might catch movement otherwise, and Saber had mastered utilizing the shadows, and of patience as an effective tool when it came to being surreptitious.

An Ordinator strolled by, unknowing of the presence of another in the hall. The guard wore the flamboyant uniform of the Temple. Flared pauldrons matched the gold and silver cuirass and greaves, enhanced by the silk and brocade purples of the shirts and pants. The priest warriors also bore helmets with silver crests that completely obscured the face into an expressionless visage. He hummed an off-key tune, pausing briefly as he thought he heard something. As Saber kept his breathing inaudible, and kept out of the way, he could pass by undetected.

None the wiser of Saber's presence, the guard continued down the hall as he made his rounds. Saber watched as he disappeared behind a bend in the tunnel before moving, ever keeping his attention to any sounds that would tell him at another's approach. He was also timing their path of duty, finding it took about thirty seconds before this guard would come around again.

Moving silently, Saber felt the spell begin to fade and cast another. This was the trick; to remain aware of his surroundings as well as maintain the spells affects. Mentally juggling between alertness and concentration, sweat beaded on his brow. The true skill was also to pick any locks he encountered, while maintaining this level of focus.

Once he passed the third guard, he found the door he was looking for. He then had to wait for the Ordinator to disappear down the tunnel. Pausing only briefly, he slipped out one of the lock picks and listened as the tumblers fell into place. Once the door was unlocked, he strengthened the spell once again, and had to wait patiently before the guard went by one more time.

"What's that?" A voice murmured close behind him. Saber remained motionless, even holding his breath as the guard looked straight at him. "Hmm, must be the long hours." The guard moved away.

Once Saber found the area clear, he ever so gently nudged the door open. No point in letting any guards on the other side take notice. Luck was with him, for a change, as he noticed all the guards on the other side were looking the other way. Slipping inside, he shut the door with a barely audible click.

He almost sighed in relief. He found the prison area without incident and none the wiser he was even here. The prison keep was nothing more than a spacious cavern carved into the Ministry of Truth, with a wooden walkway twisting through the area that allowed guards to keep a stern eye on the prisoners. A handful of convicts roamed under the walkways. Along the lower east wall, a line of locked prison cells kept the more 'dangerous' prisoners.

Being Saber couldn't see Mehres Milo among the wandering captives, he could assume she was in the cells along the wall. Great, he scowled. Now he had to pick more locks, and remain under the Chameleon spell a bit longer. His skin crawled as he strengthened his nerve.

Moving among both prisoners and guards also served to be more difficult, being the Ordinators were paranoid. They seemed to sense him, perhaps even felt him brush past, yet saw nothing but air. A few of the men even muttered comments of feeling unnerved, but fortunately for the thief among them, they did nothing but complain of being on edge.

Saber reached the farthest door to the right, and paused before slipping his pick into the keyhole. He would have to do this quietly and quickly, Fortune remained on his side as the door opened unnoticed.

Even more fortunate was finding a startled Mehres standing in the dim torch glow of her cell. The Dunmer woman frowned, seeing her door open and shut by itself. Eyes the color of opulent pink shifted to orange red as she sought the shadows for intruders.

She was as many Dunmer women appeared; slim and slight framed. She bore skin the hue of slate, with black hair pulled up into a severe bun on her head. The thin brows pinched together as she sensed him near, and the equally thin lips pulled down at the corners. Some men might not think her as beautiful, but Saber could see beyond the subtle nuances and recognize Mehra as very beautiful. Her mind was keen, her sense of morals high, and whatever she lacked in primping was more than made up in intellect.

"Its me." Saber whispered, hoping not to startle her.

She jumped anyways as he appeared five feet from her, and nearly fainted. Clutching her throat, she laughed nervously. The smile transformed her into something more soft and feminine. "I remember you." She smiled with relief. "You're the one Caius sent to me before. You must have found my message. Have you brought the scrolls?"

He handed them to her, only to have her pick one. "The other is for you." She nodded to him. Her tone turned serious. "And escape is simple. This scroll will take you to the nearest Imperial Shrine, which is in Ebonheart. From there, go down to the docks and speak with an Imperial woman named Blatta Hateria. Ask her to take you fishing." Saber frowned, not following her train of thought. Mehra laughed softly. "She will take you to Holamayan. There, you will meet Gilvas Barelo, who is leader of the dissident priests."

He looked down at the scroll, but felt her hand on his forearm to gain his notice. Gratitude filled her livid eyes of pink, but words spoke further on the matter of meeting the dissident priesthood. "Holamayan is magically protected. Speak to the monk at the docks of Holamayan to find out the secret entrance." She paused, squeezing his forearm gently. "Farewell and good luck."

In a single breath, she was gone, leaving only a light swirl of magical sparkles in her wake. Saber soon followed.

After casting the Divine Intervention, Saber found himself outside the Imperial Shrine in Ebonheart. Set atop the battlements of Ebonheart castle, the impressive fortress nearly set Saber into a panic. He just helped a prisoner escape and now stood at the very seat of government of Morrowind!

Ebonheart was where the Grand Council members, the Duke of Morrowind, and the Emperor's representatives convened. The castle itself comprised of two forts of gray stone linked by a bridge. Teaming with industry, this was where one might find the East Empire Company. The mercantile industry managed the importing and exporting of goods from the mainland, set regulations of said goods, and kept a sharp eye on ancient Dweemer artifacts.

The thief shook out of his fear, and focusing on 'acting normal' as an Imperial guard strolled past. These were not Ordinators, nor did any of the guards here know of his crime. Saber also took comfort in knowing they were not the formidable opponents as the holy priest warriors were. He could even outrun most of them if he had to.

The Imperial settlement comprised of a fortress of considerable size and an impressive waterfront for the larger ships traveling along the Ascadian Isle coastline. The hoisted sails of two ships moored along the dock, and Saber hoped that one of them was the ship that would take him to Holamayan.

One ship he recognized as being the Windswept, which ran along the coastline to take cargo and passengers to the other settlements. A second ship bore no sail at all, but mastered by a rudder to catch the heavy currents off the shore. This would be for a local fisherman by the looks of it. A third ship he hadn't noticed before, and was smaller than the Windswept, with no cabin or cargo hold to speak of. Weathered paint formed words on its bow, The Lucky Gem. An odd name for a ship, Saber mused, curious to its history. All ships bore names for some purpose. Mostly, sailors were a superstitious lot, having to depend on the mood of weather and tides, and yet neither having any consistency. Perhaps the captain kept a luck jewel on their person, or it was possible, the ship encompassed the winnings of a gambling game.

"I know you." A voice startled the thief as he spied the ship's captain. She was an older woman with silver hair tied back from her weathered face. Eyes the shade of a restless sea hadn't lost their sparkle as she appraised him. "My friend said you might want to go fishing."

This must be Blatta. "I'm Saber." He admitted, surprised she motioned him to settle on board her ship. It wasn't a large vessel. The Lucky Gem had no cabin to shield from the elements, or even a cargo hold. Definitely, a shipping boat of some sort, or one used for short trips.

Blatta moved with lithe grace as she hopped off her boat to greet him with a firm handshake. "Pleased to meet you. I'm captain and crew of the Lucky Gem. The trip will take a few hours, so whenever you're ready to go, let me know."

"Now is a good as time as any." Saber told her, moving to the bow. A few crates and sacks of foodstuffs lay beneath an oiled tarp. "Will the weather hold, do you think?"

The sky was clear for now, but storms were a constant threat. Blatta didn't seem concerned. "Settle yourself amid the sacks of Saltrice. The clouds tell me we're clear for the next few days." A grin flashed. "A fine day to go fishing, wouldn't you say?"

"Indeed." Fishing for answers, or more poetically, my destiny, he mused to himself.


	22. Ch 22 Lost Prophecies Foretold

Ch 22 Lost Prophecies Foretold

Eiryn dropped a few coins at the Balmora Temple shrine, standing before the pillar that stood nearly as tall as she was. The coin would go to any number of good causes the priests participated in such as feeding the poor and providing healing to the sick. Carved glyphs set into the stone chantry were in ancient Aldmeri. Each holy pillar could provide restorative healing, or even cure disease and poisons. She'd often used the shrines in her travels, as well as gave readily for their good works.

Here at the Balmora Temple, many of the priests and priestesses of the Tribunal had come to know Eiryn as a reliable scout. She often visited to share information, run errands, or even bring supplies the temple desperately needed. She had also guided many pilgrims to where they needed to go, providing protection on occasion as well. Many of the Temple's followers were Dunmer, and though dour in temper, they seemed to regard the young scout with hidden respect.

"I'm sorry, Muthsera." The priest gave a civil bow of his head. The red eyes closed in respect. "We have no such potions on hand."

"None?" Eiryn asked in surprise. She needed the 'Cure Blight' potions to bring along on her trip to the Ashlands. Catching one of the diseases could prove fatal if you didn't come prepared.

"Some pilgrims had taken the rest of our stock for their trip to the Ghostgate." He replied with a shrug. "Perhaps for a few drakes I can teach you the spell?"

Eiryn bit her lower lip in consideration. No doubt learning the spell would take whatever coin she had left, but the need was essential. An investment, she finally decided her reasoning, as she handed over the rest of her money. Besides, knowing such magick would aid her on future trips as well.

With that thought in mind, she began to consider other spells she should learn. Hadn't Saber mastered levitation? As a thief, he might even know invisibility. The thought of joining him on some of his more sneaky quests made her heart flutter in anticipation, but practicality won out over her sense of adventure. She knew her funds were depleted, and with any bartering she could muster with this priest, she'd have to choose wisely what magick she'd learn in the short time she had.

Healing blight was essential to traveling in the Ashlands. The very storms carried the disease on the wind, spat out by Red Mountain. However, the land was also rife with danger, so perhaps she'd best master healing spells for wounds and injuries as well.

Through the week she ended up learning healing blight, cure common disease, and even to heal minor wounds. Such skills would certainly pay off when she guided adventurers into the heart of danger. Wounds and disease would not be a concern now, not a serious concern, at any rate. In fact, Eiryn found her skill with this type of magick came to her easier than the other spells.

"It's a different school of magick." The priest named Telis Salvani explained to her as she readied to leave on the final day. Since her interest was genuine in wanting to help others, he'd agreed to teach her for a minimal fee, and a promise to help in the future if the need warranted it. "Healing is of the school of Restoration. Spells such as Levitating and water walking are of the school of Alteration. They work on entirely different principles."

"You talk like a mage." She grinned at him, settling her travel pack across her shoulders. He lowered his chin, suddenly self-conscious. For an older Dunmer, he was handsome with elegant features of his elven kin. He bore delicate scarring along the eyebrow ridge as well as the high cheekbones. At first glance, one might consider him imposing, but Telis was a soft-spoken priest with a complacent manner.

"I almost followed that path before I discovered the Temple." He smiled graciously. "I believe I've chosen the better path."

Eiryn agreed. Telis was by far the better man for his choice in serving others. She clasped his hand in farewell and headed out to find Merthisan. For the past week, he'd kept busy by sparring at the fighter's guild and learning Ashlander customs. It would not serve them if either made a gaff in etiquette while staying among the tribes. Mistakes such as this could get one killed.

She found Master Kendari at the Eight Plates finishing his lunch with a familiar blond wood elf. The dark brown eyes were squinted in a scrutinizing stare, and the thin lips twisted into a knowing smirk. Eiryn nearly choked back a wicked remark. _Fargoth?_ _From Seyda Neen? What in the Nine Hells was he doing in Balmora? _

The little chit kept his double-dealings in the backward town along the coast. Why come here? His dark eyes found hers as she approached the table, and Eiryn felt he must be trying to weasel his way into trouble again. The thin brows rose up in feigned surprise and only then Eiryn realized he'd known she was in the city.

A frown settled on her face, and arms instinctively folded in a defensive posture. "Fargoth? What brings you to Balmora?" She asked none too gently.

The Bosmer smiled, showing too many teeth and completely ignoring her obvious distain of him. "I'm a free man, _sera_." He told her in his annoying voice. Fargoth always seemed to be wheedling his words. "Must you always assume I'm into trouble?"

"When are you _not_ into trouble?" She challenged him.

Master Kendari matched her frown but for different reasons. He had no idea the purpose of her rudeness. "He says he knows Saber." He said.

"Oh no doubt." Eiryn raised a brow at the elf. "He knows everyone. What has this to do with your coming to Balmora?"

The Bosmer folded hands in front of him on the table in semblance of manners. "I've come to thank him for something he did for me when he first arrived in Morrowind." He explained. "And besides, I'm doing a bit of traveling these days. I wanted to see some of the regions of Morrowind."

Eiryn nearly barked out a laugh. "Ah yes, the Ashlands Region are lovely this time of year!" This one was notorious for his backhanded methods of trying to earn coin. If he spent _half_ the effort in actually working, then he'd be a rich man by now! "Is there no one left to fall for your schemes in Seyda Need, or did the guardsmen finally throw you out?"

Fargoth was not amused as his face tightened. "I don't need to sit here and take your insults." He snapped with a level of haughtiness that surprised Eiryn. "Fine, don't believe me, I don't care. I have powerful friends now and have little use for a peasant such as yourself."

_Peasant?_ Eiryn's brows rose up in surprise as she stifled a laugh. "And who are these powerful friends?" More importantly, who could trust the little fetcher?

"Wouldn't you like to know!" He sneered. Turning to Merthisan who bore a look of bewildered confusion over their exchange, the wood elf shook his hand. "Good day to you, Master Kendari. Perhaps we'll meet again."

As the Woodelf brushed past Eiryn with a slight nudge, he gave a single look back with an odd smile on his tight mouth. Eiryn frowned this time, finding his behavior disturbing. Fargoth was not a very good liar, otherwise his schemes might work from time to time, and if he did manage to find 'friends', there was no doubt in the scout's mind he could end up hurting those who taunted him.

"I take it, you don't like him?" Kendari said, motioning her to sit with him. She took the seat opposite of his, still distracted by the coincidence of meeting Fargoth so far from his haunts.

"I don't know anyone who does." She replied. "Fargoth is into anything that might make a quick sum of coin, except he's not very good at it. I think he thrives on scheming."

Merthisan's mouth twitched. "He seemed intent on finding Saber."

This intrigued her more. Eiryn stiffened her back. "What did you tell him?"

"That he wasn't in Balmora and that I didn't know where he was." The swordsman shrugged his broad shoulders. "I wasn't lying. I can only assume he's left Vivec by now."

"And did Fargoth mention why he is looking for him?"

"Just as he told you; to give his gratitude for helping him." Merthisan told her, "Something about a ring Saber found and returned to him."

That was very odd. Fargoth might be telling the truth, but it wasn't in the Bosmer's nature to be _that_ grateful. Certainly not to the extent of traveling all the way to Balmora to thank someone. That is, if in fact this story was even true.

"Did Fargoth ask anything else?"

"Not really. He told me about this ring business, and we chatted about Morrowind." Merthisan said. "He wanted to know about traveling, but I had nothing to share being that I just came to Morrowind myself."

"Traveling? Did he mention to anywhere specific?" Eiryn wasn't sure why she wanted to know, only that her instincts were screaming at her that Fargoth was up to something. No doubt, whatever it was he was into was up to no good.

Merthisan was sensing her growing apprehension. "He seemed interested in the northern coast." He frowned. "Why? What do you think he's up to?"

"The northern coast?" Eiryn looked away. What could Fargoth want anywhere along the northern coast? Was there any coincidence that the Urshilaku tribe was along the northern coast? _I have powerful friends_… She felt her heart flutter as thoughts began to race. Who are these friends? What has it to do with Saber?

"I think he wanted to travel with someone." Merthisan added. It was a common practice for pilgrims and adventurers to travel in groups into dangerous country.

Eiryn chewed her bottom lip in thought. "I'd rather kiss a guar than travel with that elf." She told him. "Speaking of which, we should be ready to go by morning."

"Good." Merthisan smiled, stretching his shoulders. "I was getting restless in this town. I'm more than ready for adventure."

"Well, if its adventure you want," The scout grinned back, "Its adventure you'll get where we'll be going!"

Saber arched his back to stretch muscles gone stiff from sitting too long. He sat cross-legged outside the shrine known as Holamayan to wait for the door to open. Mehra wasn't joking that the shrine had been magically sealed. There was no obvious entrance to be seen, not even a lock for him to pick. The 'door' or where a door should be, wouldn't open except for at the precise moment of dawn and dusk.

The temple was an odd cone shaped building nestled along the hill of one of the many islands in the Azura coastal region. The spired roof rose up from the morning fog in an odd layered roofing with the lowest level folded over the main entrance. Nothing short of an army could crack the heavy barrier, so Saber was now waiting patiently for the right time for the portal to open. According to the monk down at the short dock, the door opens only at dawn and dusk.

After a while he heard the distinct sound of stone scraping against stone and the 'layer' peeled back much like a maw. Beyond, the door invited him in. Hefting his pack to his shoulder, Saber entered the shrine and hoped his adventure would come to completion at last.

The temple was windowless with a large domed ceiling and walls lined in stone shrines that offered healing and restoration. A large ash pit held the remains of several generations of Dunmer ancestors, with prayer stools circling the interior for the priests. The Dissident priests followed the more traditional religion of the Dunmer of ancestral worship, not the teachings of the 'living gods'.

The few priests milling about gave gentle smiles or nods of acknowledgement. For all their behavior, Saber felt as though they had been expecting him. Perhaps they had. After all, he rescued Mehra from the Ministry of Truth and would've arrived her before him.

"You must be Saber." A much older Dunmer spoke. He wore modest robes and black hair was tied back in a snug braid from his face.

"Did Mehra arrive here safely?" Saber asked him.

A smile pulled his thin lipped mouth. "Thanks to you, yes." He replied. A wave of his hand indicated a direction to which to go. "She waits in the library for you."

Saber strode down a set of stairs, recognizing that most of the temple had been built well into the mountain. There were no windows, and only the one entrance that was sealed except for dawn or dusk. The shrine seemed oddly familiar to a prison to the thief in his humble opinion. There was also something very hushed about the atmosphere here, as if one distrusted speaking too loud.

"Saber!" Mehra's voice startled him as he entered the modest library. She stood up from the table in which she had been perusing several large books and scrolls, a smile beaming on her face. Since last he saw her, the woman now donned a robe of color. Mostly blues and greens, contrasting with the pale gray of her skin and brilliance of her pink eyes. Long black hair was loose save for the length tied back to keep vision clear. She now seemed younger. "You made it! I was beginning to worry!"

Even before he could speak, she motioned for him to follow her. "You must meet our abbot, Master Barelo." She spoke over her shoulder as she led him through the short hallways to their destination. "He's the one that will help you with the Lost Prophecies."

Master Gilvas Barelo was a much older Dunmer. Hair was cropped short and a sparse beard touched upon his chin and upper lip. The smile he gave was warm and sincere, as he looked up from his desk. "Ah, you must be Saber. You have our gratitude in rescuing Mehra from the Ministry of Truth."

"Mehra said you have the Lost Prophecies." Saber wanted to stick to business and avoid the well wishes.

The mer nodded, motioning for him to sit at a long table laden with books and scrolls. "I've reviewed the Apographa and found some passages that are of interest. We made copies for you. Many are familiar with the two Nerevarine prophecies current among the Ashlanders called the Stranger and the Seven Visions. There are two other prophecies known as the Lost Prophecies and the Seven Curses."

Curses? Saber frowned, not liking the sound of this at all.

"These prophecies help offer additional insights into the riddles surrounding the coming of the Incarnate." He continued. "We also prepared a document for you called "Kagrenac's Tools". This explains to you and to others the terrible secret the Temple conceals about the true history of the Tribunal"

"Secret?" Saber asked, his mind still mulling over the reference of Kagrenac. He was the ancient Dweemer magecrafter, as the last living dwarf at Tel Fyr had mentioned. Hadn't he mentioned something also about tools he'd made?

"Yes, a terrible secret. Read and know." Master Barelo told him gravely. "Know also that its this secret that causes the persecution of the Dissident priests as well as the Nerevarine. This must stop. Our true enemy is Dagoth Ur and his growing power. We must be united against him, not fighting amongst ourselves." He paused to look sharply at Saber. "And if you are in fact the Nerevarine, then it will be you who shall lead us against him."

Uncomfortable with his words, Saber shifted uneasily. "That remains to be seen." He accepted the scrolls and books they copied for him. If they plan on putting their bets on him as their savior, they'd lose.

Master Barelo nodded slowly, eyes narrowed as he measured the younger Dunmer before him. "Indeed. Let us discuss the puzzle of the words then." He tapped one of the scrolls. "The Lost Prophecies…"

Saber had remained silent as he listened to the priest rattle on and on about the various prophecies and the possible meanings to the visions. Very little made sense, and speculation was just that- a guess and nothing more.

_"From seventh sign of eleventh generation,  
Neither Hound nor Guar, nor Seed nor Harrow,  
But Dragon-born and far-star-marked,  
Outlander Incarnate beneath Red Mountain,  
Blessed Guest counters seven curses,  
Star-blessed hand wields thrice-cursed blade,  
To reap the harvest of the unmourned house." _

Master Barelo shrugged, "I've annotated your copy of 'The Lost Prophecy' with our best efforts at interpretation. But a rough summary might be: 'An outlander -- foreign-born, but welcomed as a guest -- confronts seven curses beneath Red Mountain. His hand, blessed by Azura, uses a cursed blade to bring justice to House Dagoth, or House Dwemer, or both." The priest shook his head slowly. "The Nerevarine? An outlander? That wouldn't please many Ashlanders, and may explain how the prophecy got lost." Hands splayed at the conjecture. "The Seven Curses' reads as follows:

"_Through the doors of the unmourned house  
where scoffers scoff and schemers scheme  
from the halls of the oath-breaking house  
rings seven curses of gods blasphemed _

_first curse, Curse-of-Fire  
second curse, Curse-of-Ash  
third curse, Curse-of-Flesh  
fourth curse, Curse-of-Ghosts  
fifth curse, Curse-of-Seed  
sixth curse, Curse-of-Despair  
seventh curse, Curse-of-Dreams"_

To this Barelo indicated the words in Old Aldmeri amid the pages of the book. "Your copy of 'The Seven Curses' bears our guesses at interpreting the verses. In short form: Seven curses come from House Dagoth, or House Dwemer, or both. Fire and ash come from Red Mountain. Flesh is Corprus. Ghosts, Seed, and Despair are unclear, but Curse-of-Dreams seems to refer to recent cases of soul sickness and Sleeper attacks in the towns."

He thumped his palm against a pile of three more books beside him. "You should take these as well. They give more information on Nerevar and his history from differing view points." Saber had fallen silent as he pretended to be interested in the papers before him, but something must have told the priest his thoughts and concerns. The aged Dunmer paused to consider Saber and sighed softly. "I suppose this must be very overwhelming to you."

"To say the least." Saber admitted.

The priest relaxed, his voice softening. "I cannot begin to imagine what it must be like to discover you may very well be the Incarnate-"

"And if I'm not?" Saber countered. Up to this point there had been speculation of him, and most likely a setup that he was to fulfill the role, but what if he wasn't the one? What then? Saber wasn't sure why he was even asking except Barelo might know something everyone else did not. Perhaps he could even find reason to not pursue this quest, but unfortunately, the priest remained quiet.

When the priest didn't answer but instead looked away, Saber gave a derisive snort. "I join the others who failed, right? Lost to the gods only knows where?"

He meant the other ones who fell upon the path of the Incarnate and were never heard from again. Some considered they had been murdered by the Temple, others think they might have died along the way of their impossible quest. Either case, all of them had disappeared, never to be heard from again.

Despair grew thick, burdening him as he eyed the pile of notes and books before him. Everything he'd been told didn't ease the sense of weight of Fate that rested on his shoulders now. The longer he was on this quest, the more he felt as though he were buried alive.

"I best head out then." He murmured, moving to get up.

"You could stay a day or so, take respite here at our temple." The priest offered.

Saber shook his head. "The sooner I reach the Ashlander camp the better." He said, not believing a word of what he said. "I'm sure Nibani would be very interested in these lost prophecies."

"A safe journey to you then." Master Barelo said, his gaze steadily watching the younger Dunmer before him. His hand reached out, touched him on the forearm to gain his attention. "Value the reward above the task, my son."

Easy for him to say, Saber mused but nodded anyway. "I'll bear that in mind."


	23. Ch 23 Nerevar of Old

Chapter 23 Nerevar of Old 

"He's heading towards one of the Ashlander camps along the northern coast." Fargoth said in an arrogant tone, confident the Shadow man would release him from further duties and chores. He'd done what was expected of him, and surely the Shadow man would let him go. They had gathered in the sewers beneath Balmora, with only a pitiful torch between them for light. Not that the Shadow man needed light, he seemed not to. He never carried a lantern or torch, and seemed born from the very darkness itself. Fargoth shuddered and tried to ignore the rank odor of the sewers. Why did the Shadow man always want to meet in such dark, dank places?

The darkness here was engulfing, almost as if threatening to snuff out the torchlight. The eerie sound of rats kept at bay from the fire also seemed to close in around him, and Fargoth knew this was not a place for a Bosmer to be, especially with whatever the Shadow Man was.

The wood elf was still perplexed as instincts warned him the man was not human, nor was he 'mer'. There was something decidedly unnerving about his very presence and not just because of how intimidating he was either. He seemed shrouded in his robe and hood, and the man never entered the light. Fargoth had yet to see his face, but had only caught a glimpse now and then of a chin and nose, or an outline of a cheek. Nothing indicated anything that this man was anything but human, but Fargoth knew there was something decidedly sinister. He also carried a certain madness, and cruelty around him.

"Very good." The tattered voice spoke, the words echoing in the wide tunnel they stood in. As usual Fargoth saw nothing of his face beneath the cloak's hood, only the overwhelming presence of the man looming over him. "And the woman?"

"The woman?" Fargoth blinked stupidly. He'd explained how he found out their destination, his chat with Merthisan Kendari and the scout he'd hired. "Oh you mean Eiryn? She is a scout, probably hired to guide Master Kendari or this Dunmer fellow around Morrowind. She's no one of consequence."

The Shadow man turned slightly as footsteps echoed behind them and another torch cut into the darkness. "Ah Valos. You've finally arrived." He greeted another large Imperial with a broad face and small eyes of cold steel. A trimmed beard framed his thin lipped mouth that pressed thinner in disgust as he eyed the sewers. He wore a long robe of dark colors, with a wide belt.

"You wanted to meet _here_?" The man made clear his thought on that matter. "You couldn't find someplace…_cleaner_?"

The Shadow man coughed a chuckle. "Valos…meet Fargoth of Seyda Neen." He presented the wood elf who frowned in confusion. The Imperial gave a curt nod but seemed to care little of who he was. "And Fargoth, this is Sir Valos Cantanius-"

Fargoth swallowed hard as eyes bulged. "C-c-cantanius the Butcher?" Yes, he'd heard of him from the soldiers in Seyda Neen. Who hadn't heard of the man that had been thrown out of the Legion for torturing prisoners? His reputation for brutality was well known, his skill in meting out pain was legendary. They whispered he even knew of magic and an unhealthy interest in necromancy. Then again, there should be no surprise that the Shadow man would know him!

Valos smiled and gave a bow. "I see you've heard of me, but I've never appreciated that title. I hardly butchered anyone. I simply did my job as an interrogator. I prefer Cantanius the Subjugator."

The wood elf took a step back, feeling as though someone had begun to dig his grave. "So I guess I've done my job then." He said lightly, taking another step back. Could he run for it? "And you won't be needing me further?"

The Shadow man chuckled in his hoarse voice again. "Ah Fargoth. Has the appeal of gold so quickly waned over my company?"

The wood elf had to admit there was an attraction to the amount of gold he'd earned thus far, but at what cost? How much gold was worth working for this man, especially if he's employed that madman Valos? Perhaps it was best to cut his losses and leave now while he still had his head. "But what could you possibly need of me now? I don't know anything about the Northern coast let alone the Ashlanders."

"Ashlanders?" Valos spat in disgust, "Not more wretched Dark Elves! I thought you wanted only the one?"

The Shadow man shrugged. "Only the one, but he travels to the Ashlander Camp. I need a base setup near them, a haven if you will." The cowl turned towards Fargoth who thought he saw something glowing within the darkness of the hood. "I will pay more gold of course."

Fargoth considered how he could back out of this mess. "I don't know how to set up a base-"

"Valos will help you." The voice rasped.

"V-Valos?" Fargoth definitely wanted out now. The madman perked a brow in his own distaste.

"You wish us to travel to the Ashland regions and setup a base?" His disbelief was apparent, as if the idea was ludicrous.

"I understand in that area there are caves and old Dunmer strongholds, which would be perfect for what I need." The Shadow man pointed out. "And its remote, with little consideration of the Legion I understand."

Valos tilted his head, considering. "Plenty of victims you mean."

Fargoth slid back another step away from them. "Victims?"

"Nothing to concern you, Fargoth." The Shadow man said, "Do this and I will make you sure you have enough gold you can retire in luxury."

The Bosmer bit his lower lip. Part of him desperately wanted to refuse and go home, but again, instinct warned him that he trod on dangerous ground at this moment. Just one more task…and that was it, he's out of this mess. Setting up a base didn't sound too hard. Besides, having enough gold to retire in luxury was very tempting.

Envisioning himself with a lovely women on each arm being fed grapes and fine wine, Fargoth also thought of the mansion he'd build, or a ship to sail around the world…..

"Very well." He said with reluctance, "How much gold are we talking about?'

Eiryn found Merthisan unnervingly quiet through their trek in the Ashlands. He didn't complain when they'd reached Maar Gan, nor faltered in step with her when they headed out into the back roads of the wildlands. He didn't say a word, yet his face remained pensive. One only had to look at the desolation of the region and have the jagged landscape affect them. Rocks jutted from the sharp hillsides of the roadway like bones left to dry in the sand. Trauma root slithered to find holdings wherever the boughs could muster amid the ash. In short, the countryside was a wasteland, and master Kendari maintained a glum silence through the trip.

The haunting echo of silt striders in the distance mixed with the myriad of other wildlife eking out a living here. Screeches of cliffracers intermingled with the low bray of herding Kagouti, interlaced with the ever-present moan of the wind against the earth. Together the cacophony made for a very lonely sound.

Eiryn paused during their trek, pulling the facial scarf clear of her face to suck in some air. The unpleasant odor of the ash reminded her of bad eggs. Such smell only grew worse when you traveled closer to Red Mountain. Even still, the air was cooler than that under the scarf.

"How much further?" Merthisan asked, gulping from his water bottle in their short break. He ran fingers through his silver hair, wiping sweat off his brow. Cheeks flushed pink against the light complexion and he looked decidedly miserable in the heat. By the haggard look, and scratching of his beard, he might consider shaving his face in weather such as this.

She could hear the faint call of the ocean just over the next ridge. "Not far." She told him. "Within the hour."

Eiryn had explained Ashlander customs, and their timing encompassed a week's time so as not to linger at length at the tribe's hospitality. They were both considered 'outlanders' and would not be welcomed in the heart of the tribe. Eiryn knew the wisewoman, Nibani, might enjoy her company, but the tribes, as a whole did not welcome outsiders. She only hoped Saber would also be there or would arrive soon. Briefly the though of his encountering some trouble had to pushed aside. No point in borrowing grief, she chided herself.

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Saber found traveling in the Ashlands without Eiryn decidedly unnerving. Somehow, her company made him feel whole, but more importantly, the young Breton kept his mood up despite the depressing location. She also had an uncanny sense of direction, and the shortcut they'd taken in their earlier trip to the Ashlander camp had saved them hours of walking. Walking he was now stuck with due to not understanding those subtle changes in landscape or knowing the proper markers.

Having a scout accompany him also provided another pair of eyes to lookout for cliffracers and other wild beasts. Her skill with the bow excelled his own, and her attention to this environment that had proven invaluable in avoiding trouble.

Saber found himself growing ever more dependant on Eiryn, and for the most part, he didn't mind at all. Yet, another part of him also knew that close relationships could also be a hindrance. He remembered how often Nekros preached that '_friends were liabilities, they make you weak'_. The assassin had almost killed Lyra once to prove this point. If Saber hadn't developed a friendship with her, than Nekros could hardly use the girl against him, or so the assassin reasoned.

Nekros' plan backfired badly. Instead of teaching this lesson of liabilities, Saber learned that Nekros needed to be stopped….permanently, or else he'd always be a danger. That very night, the boy put an end to the assassin's life, as well as any threat Nekros might have been to his friends. In a strange way, his affection for Lyra strengthened his resolve. He wanted his freedom more than ever, and instinct to protect friends fired his will into desperation.

Part of him believed friends were an advantage, yet with Eiryn, there was also an obvious weakness he was developing. What if anything should happen to her? What if she died? The notion was too horrific to consider and he quickly pushed it aside. Thoughts instead were at the task at hand; to deliver the Lost Prophecies to the Urshilaku wisewoman and be done with this whole mess of the Incarnate.

On board the ship traveling from the shrine, Saber read through the books and scrolls Master Barelo had given him. What he found was disheartening. The story of the ancient Dunmer general were conflicting depending on the story teller. All agreed he had been a remarkable hero, but details of his life and death were clouded in mystery. Some said he was a general, others considered him a king or Ashkhan, while many agreed he was one of many Great Houses.

This was a time when the Dunmer were known as Chimer, translated into the "People of the North", or the elves that followed the prophet Veloth into the lands of Morrowind, Rasdaynia it was called then. The Chimer were golden skinned, with golden eyes. They settled in tribes but eventually developed the Great Houses.

The Temple described Nerevar as a great general, First Councilor, and companion to Vivec, Almalexia, and Sotha Sil. He united the Dunmer Houses to confront the wicked Dweemer, the treacherous House Dagoth, and western allies of Red Mountain. Yet another source, a Televani source, described Nerevar as merely having the ambition and providence to unite the Houses and added that he bore a ring known as the Moon-and-Star. Crafted by the ancient Dweemer and enchanted with powerful magicks, only Nerevar could wear the ring and bear the magic of persuasion. It was because of the magical ring that gave him the power to unite the Houses and Tribes. He swore an oath upon said ring to honor the spirits of the land and the tribal laws of its peoples.

The story continued to tell of how Nerevar had been close friends to Dumac, the leader of the Dweemer people and upheld a fragile alliance with the 'dwarf' race that held differing religious beliefs than the elven race at the time. But like all great things, the peace came to a bitter end when Dagoth had found proof that the Dweemer had discovered the Heart of Lorhkhan and were planning on tapping its awesome power. What's more, they intended on created a mechanical god from this power.

The Heart, it was said, was a great magical stone discovered beneath Red Mountain. Lord Kagrenac, High Priest and Magecrafter, determined the stone to be the heart of the god Lorkhan, cast down in the first Dawn Era as punishment for mischief in creating the mortal world. It was Kagrenac that developed the 'Tools' to harness the power of the Heart.

Nerevar's trusted friends and companions urged for him to go to war, to end this mockery of faith. Believing in his friendship with Dumac, he traveled to Red Mountain and asked directly what the Dweemer were plotting. He received no answer. Confused, Nerevar took a pilgrimage to Holamayan shrine and was told by Azura the truth, that the Dweemer had indeed intended on tapping a terrible power against them and that this must be stopped at all costs.

Naturally there was no other alternative but to go to war. With a heavy heart Nerevar took arms and his armies and set upon Red Mountain. While his militia took to the field of battle, he managed to make his way under Red Mountain with friend and loyal companion, Lord Dagoth, at his side.

Saber had to reread this part of history several times to understand, due to the various sources were contradictory. Some spoke that the Dweemer had managed to tap the power, utterly destroying themselves in the process, while others suggest they simply teleported into another realm. All reports agreed that the Dweemer simply disappeared without a trace never to be heard from again. That seemed to agree with what Yagrum, the Last Living Dwarf, had said. His people had utterly disappeared.

Saber continued to read of Dagoth discovering the Tools of Kagrenac and urged they should be destroyed. However, Nerevar wished to find counsel with Vivec and the others. He left Dagoth to guard the tools under Red Mountain and conferred with his counselors. They urged the Tools should be studied should the Dweemer ever return. Lord Nerevar agreed only one on condition; they take an oath to never use the Tools in a profane manner.

One tale spoke of the Tribunal had returned to Red Mountain to retrieve the Tools and Dagoth had gone mad, supposedly from the effects of the tools. A fight ensued and the Dagoth was driven off. The Tribunal then learned the magic of the Tools and the Heart, and harnessed the power of godhood. Azura was angered, and by this, cursed them and all the Chimer with red eyes and gray skin. She made promise that Nerevar would return and set things to right.

Saber was disturbed by this story, lightly touching his cheek as he considered the color might have different if history had taken a different turn. However as he read the Dissident priests' Apographa, he now understood what Master Barelo meant by the Temple keeping secrets.

According to this account, the Tribunal; Vivec, Sotha Sil, and Nerevar's queen, Almalexia, poisoned and killed Nerevar to gain the power of the Heart. It was then, in this account, that Azura appeared and cursed them for their evil deeds. After the change, they took the Tools and set themselves up as gods.

This left Saber with conflicting stories of what happened. One thing was certain, however, that the Tools were the key to tapping and harnessing the Heart's power. The Heart was how Dagoth Ur gained his power, how he controlled the Blight and even controlled the dreams of his mad followers. It was also because he controlled the Heart, the Tribunal were weakening, as well as the barrier known as the Ghostgate, and soon Dagoth would escape Red Mountain to claim all of Morrowind.

Saber vaguely remembered a dream he had concerning Dagoth. The dream seemed so long ago now, and only snippets were nothing but faded memory. A voice had spoken amid a storm, something about 'three belied you, three betrayed you'? In that dream, as well as the message the Sixth House priest had given him, mentioned Dagoth as once a trusted friend. How much was truth and how much was myth?

A shudder passed through him as the thief realized things were unfolding too quickly. _It cant be true….I'm not the Incarnate…._


	24. Ch 24 Choices

Chapter 24: Choices 

Eiryn found that Saber was late. Only by a day, but late nonetheless. Up to this point, the young scout had told herself over and over that Saber knew what he was doing, that he'd arrive shortly, that there was nothing to worry about. He'd survived so much already, why should she worry after all this time? Only that morning she had this sudden sense of impending trouble, that Saber was in danger. Common sense dictated she was being foolish, but Eiryn simply couldn't shake the feeling of dread.

Nibani kept her busy with gathering herbs and preparing healing salves, setting her on a blanket amid the circle of yurts to pass the time. Merthisan sat close by, sharpening his sword and trying to ignore the furtive glances the Ashlanders cast in his direction. The tribe seemed to tolerate them, accepting that they were waiting for Saber who was named Clanfriend. Eiryn never could understand the general mistrust Ashlanders had to outsiders, especially in light of her willingness to help if asked. She never shirked duty, and had self-pride on being one who was a hard worker. To Dunmer Ashlander, however, she was n'wah. This was enough to cause some to be suspicious of her.

Ignoring the furtive glances, Eiryn's worries fluttered from one thought to another, even to the point of chiding herself for following his orders. What if Saber had been killed during the rescue? What if they caught him and now he suffered under torture from the Oridinators? "I should've stayed with him, to watch his back." She muttered more to herself than to anyone else.

Merthisan was less concerned, assuring the young scout the Dunmer's skill in survival was surmount. "He is only delayed a day, Eiryn." The swordmaster said with a casual shrug. "Give the boy credit. Saber is very good at getting out of tough spots."

"Yeah," A voice startled her from behind. She spun to see the travel weary thief giving her a boyish grin as he dropped his pack to the ground. "Give me some credit."

"Saber!" She cried out, running into his arms. The force of her slamming into him nearly knocked him off his feet, but he managed to lift her up to swing her around and absorb the blow. He was covered in dust and looked positively disheveled, but Eiryn thought he never looked better. Wrapping arms around his neck she refused to let go.

Laughing, he hugged her tightly. "I take it you missed me?" He teased, not giving her a chance to reply before kissing her on the lips.

"What took you so long?" Merthisan asked, only now revealing his own growing concerns of Saber's delay.

"I found the Dissident priests and their shrine." The thief told them. He set Eiryn back on her feet to look for the wisewoman. "Now that I have the Lost Prophecies, we'll find out for certain if I'm this Nerevarine after all."

He gave a reassuring hug to his scout before heading towards the wisewoman's hut. Clearly he wanted to finish this quest and quickly. No doubt, he wanted to complete the tasks given to him, and return to Balmora. Who could blame him? But a nagging thought kept the relief Eiryn felt upon seeing him from being enjoyable. What if he was the Nerevarine after all?

"The Lost Prophecies!" Nibani gasped, snatching the scrolls from Saber's hands before he could even speak. "You found them! I cannot believe it! You actually found them!"

Saber wasn't surprised at her reaction, nor felt slighted in the least bit that her attention poured over the scrolls instead of him. This was part of her people's history lost to them after all.

"Come." Nibani said, motioning for him to sit upon one of the rugs laid out for guests. "Sit. You must tell me everything until I know them by heart. Then you must tell me what the priests say about these prophecies."

Saber sipped a cup of tea she made for him and shared what he knew of the Lost Prophecies, and his adventure up to now. Nibani was transfixed, nodding now and then but otherwise intent on memorizing as much as he could tell her. She'd nod in agreement when he spoke of the translation of the Dissident priests, and then grow quiet when he gave his own opinion on what he'd read. When he finally finished, she had no reaction other than a slight crease of her brow and a faraway look to her eye.

"Well?" Saber finally asked after too much silence.

She blinked as if just remembering he was sitting in front of her. "Well what?"

"Am I the Nerevarine or not?" Saber frowned, wondering what she was thinking his purpose of being here was.

Her posture stiffened as her red eyes looked away. "Sleep." She told him, jerking her chin to indicate he must leave. "Hunt, Train. I must bring these things into me and place them before the ancestors. When the moons have gone and returned, then I will give you my answer."

_When the moons have gone-?_ Saber frowned. No, of course it wouldn't be easy now would it? Nothing about Morrowind ever was. He must wait for a moon cycle to pass before he'd get his answer. _The waiting is going to kill me_, he though darkly. Biting his tongue while knowing he'd get nowhere if he demanded his answer now, he left disgruntled and tense. He could only hope this further delay meant all the more he was not, in fact, the Nerevarine. There must surely doubts.

Not unexpectedly, Eiryn was at his heels as soon as he left the wisewoman's yurt. Her bright green eyes were intent. "Well? What did she say?"

Saber felt his grimace deepen. "Apparently she's not ready to say just yet." His tone was tight, his temper flaring. Part of him wanted to pack up and leave right then and there. Why should he continue this farce? He'd already accomplished more than what most had even expected of him! Who could blame him if he simply quit and left?

His gaze settled on Eiryn who blinked against the rising breeze that continually brushed loose hair across her eyes. What would she think of him if he up and renounced this quest? Merthisan's presence also let itself be known, and Saber didn't have to wonder what his reaction would be.

"She's given you no answer?" The young Breton said.

"I have to wait for the moon to have gone before she will give her answer." Saber said in disgust. He felt filthy and wanted a bath. Here in the Ashlands getting clean was nearly impossible unless you wanted to risk the Slaughterfish along the coast. He wanted to head down to the beach to clean up before the sun set but likely the darkness would make the trek too dangerous. He'd wait until morning.

Merthisan sat not far away and had overheard them. "What do we do in the meantime?"

Sighing heavily, Saber headed to the yurt the tribe had set aside for him. The sun was leaning close to the horizon, and he felt as though he could sleep for a whole week. "Sleep. Hunt. Whatever to pass the time." He gave Eiryn a quick glance, a mischievous wink of an eye. "Care to do… whatever …to pass the time?"

She suppressed a grin, feigning indignation instead. "You have the manners of a guar in rut." Eiryn scoffed. "I suppose you'll need a backrub or something?"

He looked over his shoulder to give a knowing smile. "Or something."

Sighing, she followed him leaving Merthisan to shake his head and mutter something about regrets of lost youth.

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Time passed quickly, moreso than what Saber had thought possible. In fact, with the pleasant, easy-going manner of tribal life, he almost wished that Nibani would want more time. Days and nights meshed into one another as the three adventurers fell into a pattern with life amid the Urshilaku. From hunting and gathering food, to learning Ashlander customs and lore, to even sparring with the warriors for 'fun', Saber couldn't remember the last time he felt so at ease.

Most of the day was spent gathering food. The Urshilaku admired Eiryn's skill with the bow, and her ease of bringing down healthy game. They couldn't understand her light-hearted manner however, being a more dour people. They took life seriously. What humor could be found in the harsh reality of survival? Undaunted, the young scout remained true to herself, and for that, Saber admired her.

Nights were spent in breathless union with the woman, while the days were a casual lifestyle of getting to know her better. The Urshilaku were less than enthusiastic about their relationship. Dunmer here in Morrowind frowned on coupling with non-Dunmer, which 'spoiled' the bloodline. Saber didn't care, only knowing that Eiryn filled his senses like no other woman could.

But it clearly bothered Eiryn. Late one evening as they shared his cloak to watch the stars atop a nearby hill, her gaze would wander back to the circle of tents and the few Urshilaku warriors who frowned back in their general direction.

"Ignore them." Saber murmured softly. She sat between his thighs as he leaned against a rock, folding the cloak around them both. Her head leaned back against his chest and shoulder. He could feel the tension in her body. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" She exclaimed in surprise. "You don't see it, do you?"

"See what?"

She gave a soft snort. "Dunmer do not approve of mixing races." Eiryn told him. "If you're the Nerevarine, this will be a problem for you."

His first reaction was to refute her words but he realized she might know something more than he did on this matter. "What are you talking about?"

The young scout shifted enough to turn her head to look at him directly. Green eyes were pale in the dim light of evening, her skin a creamy glow. "Don't you think this quest will be hard enough that you are outlander? And now you are insinuating yourself with a human? They won't accept it-"

Saber laughed, remembering Caius' used of the term 'insinuate'. Her own father hadn't approved either and yet changed his mind. Why would she care what Ashlanders thought of them? Eiryn's face pinched into a frown, most likely thinking he laughed at _her_. He quickly apologized.

"First off, I don't care what others think of me and what I do. Second, you assume a great deal that I'd be the Nerevarine, and third," He leaned close, touched lips lightly on her mouth. "If I'm fated to be, in fact, the Incarnate, then sleeping with a human would hardly change that, don't you think?"

Obviously she hadn't considered that, as she leaned back against him in a comfortable position. Only some of the tension in her body relaxed. "I suppose you're right." She spoke softly, twinning fingers into his own. "I just can't help but shake this feeling of unease."

He enfolded arms around her. "You worry too much."

"And you don't worry enough." She reasoned. It felt good to be snuggling against him under the warmth of his cloak. The scent of leather and sweat tickled her senses, and she felt as though she could fall asleep like this.

"I worry enough if I can see the problem, but I certainly don't see the reason to borrow grief." He retorted. "We'll take it one day at a time. Relax-" Saber leaned his lips against her hair. "We have a few days more and this will all be over."

Eiryn frowned. "You're that certain that you're _not_ the Incarnate?"

"I'm not certain of anything anymore." He murmured in a tone that belied his growing insecurities on the subject. "But I can't help think that I should know, down to my soul, that I was the Incarnate, and I don't feel anything of the sort."

"That's assuming a great deal."

"I assume nothing." He replied. "Everyone else does. And like I said, I won't worry about it until I am actually named Nerevarine." He felt it best to not share his own growing trepidation on the matter.

Fargoth remained in the dark cold, hunkered just beyond a few hills from the happy couple. He was, at first, surprised to see them so close together, but the light touch of a hand, or a soft kiss on the cheek made things evident they were a couple. Fargoth wasn't sure what to make of it. Eiryn struck him as never wanting to settle down, and the Dunmer ….well Dunmer normally didn't mix with the other races. They made for an odd pair.

A thin weathered cloak barely kept the chill off of him, and the gritty soil he lay on made him itch. He hated this playing the role of sneak a peek, and what's more, hated working with that Valos fellow. The imperial was a cruel man, cold and without any remorse. He had told Fargoth of his 'exploits', practically boasting of some torture methods he'd used on prisoners to gain information. He was a vicious monster.

This was _his_ idea to watch the Urshilaku camp, which was dangerous unto itself. If the tribe people found him, they'd kill him for certain. They might even torture him to death, being an outsider. If Eiryn or that Dunmer fellow caught sight of him, then he'd face the wrath of the Shadow man. It was, in short, an impossible situation, and once again, the Bosmer wondered if the gold he was being offered was worth this trouble.

The 'base' had been set up not far from where he hid, and Fargoth liked that even less. The strange fortress-like structure had once been a Dunmer stronghold. The windows were nothing more than narrow slits, practically barred up to shut out the light of day, and what made matters worse, was they discovered some horrid undead had taken up residence there. Valos made short work of them, even showing that interest of his of the undead and using the bodies for experiments in the dungeon he'd set up for himself. Fargoth tried to ignore the number of devices that appeared too closely as tools for torturing and inflicting pain.

The Shadow man had finally shown up as well, establishing the stronghold as his 'base of operations', whatever that meant. It wasn't as though there was anything _here_ to work with!

He wasn't even sure why they would need a stronghold, but the Shadow man had brought in other questionable criminal types to this endeavor. What could they possibly want with this Dark Elf, and what's more, what did they mean by 'victims'?

So far he'd seen nothing in the way of 'victims', though the others in their group were dangerous looking types. Many appeared to be mercenaries of sorts, or bandits. Was the Shadow man hoping to make war on the tribes? For what purpose?

Unable to make sense of the situation, Fargoth simply did as he was told. Following orders was safer than the alternative for the time being. This time, the orders were simple; watch the camp and bring word should the Dunmer leave the haven of the tribe. Fargoth had no idea what they had planned for this fellow, but it couldn't be good, not with Valos on board. The Bosmer almost felt sorry for the Dark Elf.

He remembered meeting the Dunmer briefly in Seyda Neen. Apparently, he'd just arrived in Morrowind and seemed so very different than the other Dark Elves in the village. While Dunmer were dour, grim sort of people, this one was rather friendly and even smiled. He found Fargoth's lost ring and returned it to him. He seemed a pleasant sort of Dunmer, and it seemed tragic anything bad might happen to him.

_But better him than me_, Fargoth scowled to himself.

Eiryn woke one morning to find Saber had already left the yurt. Her first thought was perhaps he'd left her behind again, but thankfully his things were still sitting in their pile near the door. She dressed in her usual breeches and tunic, braiding her hair back from her face, and entering the dawn to find Saber.

Merthisan was sitting with one of the warriors, adding resins to Chitin bows they made. "Good morning Eiryn." He said to her with a smile. Eiryn could see some beads worked into his silver hair, no doubt a gift from some of the children of the tribe. With his offer to help gather food and provide a few lessons to the warriors had obviously helped in some of the tribe accepting him.

"Where is Saber?" Eiryn asked him.

He looked northward. "He went down to the beach. He'll be back soon- Ah, there he is."

Saber was walking back with bow in one hand, and sacking in the other. Hair was wet, slicked back from his face from washing up, and he wore only his trousers with his shirt slung over his shoulder. A half-healed wound on his arm revealed he'd fought something in his absence and Eiryn frowned her condemnation.

"Nix Hound." He commented when he was close enough to see her disapproval. He lifted the sacking to show he'd killed and dressed the meat. Water still dripped from his wet hair, and he looked perplexed to why she'd be so disapproving. Before he could add anything further, his gaze found Nibani standing behind her with a hard look on her face. The wisewoman lifted her chin and her small stature stretched to impose itself. By now all of the tribe had alerted to her presence and settled into a semi-circle around them to listen to her words. She'd come to make her judgment.

"The ancestors and stars have given me clear signs." She spoke slowly, speaking the words clearly to be heard by all. "The lost prophecies leave no doubt-"

Eiryn looked at Saber who was as still as a statue, his face locked in an odd expression.

"The Incarnate shall be an outlander." Nibani continued, pointedly looking at Saber. "You, blessed by Azura, must lift the seven curses of Dagoth Ur."

All was silent save for the gentle blow of wind and wind chimes rattling in the distance. Saber slowly shook his head, denying her claim, but the wisewoman continued. Her voice rose in pitch as she announced his Fate. "Prophecy has shown the seven steps of the Nerevarine's path, and I have been chosen as your guide for each step on that path. I will read the signs, and show you the way. It is time for you to walk the path of the Seven Visions, and pass the Seven Trials of the Seven Visions."

Saber took a step back to look at the number of eyes looking at back at him, the expectation clear in their eyes. He was being named Nerevarine, and he hadn't thought it possible. He was a thief, an outlander- How could he be Nerevarine? He'd wanted Nibani to see thru the Emperor's lies and speak the truth, somehow, he could hear the reality of her words.

"You are born on a certain day to uncertain parents. So you have passed the first trial. My dreams show me that you also fulfill the second trial, that _'neither blight nor age can harm him/The Curse-of-Flesh before him flies'_. I have read the signs, but I cannot understand. Can you explain this to me?" All eyes of the tribe fell upon the thief, who lowered his chin, and seemed to avoid her gaze.

"I've had Corprus." He murmured. "Cured by the wizard Divayth Tyr" He then explained without embellishment or emotion the 'side effects' he'd been told the cure had upon him.

He dared glance at Eiryn when he finished, and she let his words sink in. They were further voiced when Nibani spoke once more. "That you have overcome the Curse-of-Flesh is strange enough, but that it should protect you from blight and age is past belief."

Eiryn was dumbfounded. _Protect him from age…? He'd never age? Never get sick?_ The guilt in his eyes as she stared at him verified what was meant. _Immortal?_ She thought. _Why didn't he tell me?_

The wisewoman splayed hands. "Yet the signs of my dreams are clear. You have passed the second trial. But the third trial is unfulfilled. The mystery of the third trial is not my secret to share. Go to the Ashkhan, Sul-Matuul, the guardian of our cult, and he shall tell you of the third trial. When you have fulfilled the third trial, return to me for guidance on your next steps on the path of the Nerevarine."

For a several long moments Saber seemed to stand stiff in the wind, muscles taut and flinching. Nibani expected him to speak, or ask questions, or respond in some way. Perhaps she also expected him to walk to the Ashkhan's yurt to ask about this Third Trial, but instead, he simply dropped the sacking in his hand and returned to the yurt set aside for them.

Eiryn and Merth cast a shocked look to one another, and the scout decided she best go speak to him. She didn't know what to expect to find, but finding him packing his things was not one of them.

"What are you doing?" She asked, watching him move angrily within the confined tent.

Saber moved with purpose, shoving his remaining belonging into the backpack while simultaneously getting dressed. "What does it look like I'm doing?" He snapped back.

"You're leaving?"

"Your powers of deduction are extraordinary." He muttered, continuing his forceful retreat. That's what this was, Eiryn recognized immediately. He never expected to be named Nerevarine, and now was panicked and wanting out of this mess. He moved like a caged animal.

"So you're just giving up? You're leaving?" The young woman felt something akin to fright that Saber found this so easy to pack up and leave like this. "You're just going to run off-?"

He turned to glare back at her, and for a brief moment, Eiryn felt the shock of being the focus of his temper. She'd never seen him so angry, and with eyes glowing like hellfire, he was imposing indeed. "Can you blame me?"

"What are you going to do then, head to Balmora, leave Morrowind?" Despair choked off the rest of her rant she wanted to lash out at him.

His eyes shifted off her face, the muscles in his jaw clenched. "I don't know." Saber admitted, focusing now on finishing packing his things. "I'm going anywhere but here. Morrowind is a big place. I'm sure to find plenty of things to do that doesn't include Red Mountain, or Dagoth Ur."

"And leave us to Dagoth Ur…" She murmured, not looking at him. Eiryn felt his attention upon her, his silence almost deafening until he spoke.

"You can come with me-" Saber began before she shook her head.

"And do what? For how long? How long do you think Morrowind has before Dagoth grows powerful enough to breach the Ghostgate?" She challenged him, letting her own anger fend off his. "No, I'm staying. You go and run. Do what you have to do-"

"That's not fair, Eiryn." He snarled in renewed anger. "I didn't ask for any of this. Its not my fault the Sixth House has grown in power. Its not my fault a bunch of savages name me some prophesied hero-"

He suddenly stopped short, his attention shifted beyond her as they both realized the wisewoman stood at the doorway of the yurt. Standing with the curtain used as a doorway, she let it drop as her expression pinched into a frown. It became obvious she'd heard everything.

Her gaze was sharp and unforgiving as she glared at Saber, but shifted to Eiryn instead. "It is his decision to make." She spoke in a rigid tone, trying to control her anger. The red eyes shifted back to Saber who at least had the decency to look ashamed of his harsh words. "And you're right, we are a simple people, living off the land as we have for centuries-"

"Forgive me, I didn't mean…" Saber began but her hand waved him into silence.

"And I understand your fear." She continued. "There were others, like you, who were named Nerevarine, and they failed. To be _named_ the Incarnate doesn't necessarily mean you _are_ the Incarnate. So much is still not known, so many Trials to be completed. This is not a quest for the feint of heart, and nothing in the Prophecy speaks of the Nerevarine surviving the ordeal, only his success at defeated Dagoth Ur. It is your right to refuse this path."

"But if he is the Nerevarine-" Eiryn started to speak.

The wisewoman shook her head. "If he is, and he refuses to go, then we are all lost." She drew in a long sigh. "But, nonetheless, it is his choice to make. And he wouldn't be the first who had made that choice."

Saber visibly cringed under their combined scrutiny, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. Entangled with the conflicting decision of fight or flight, he felt as though a noose was tightening around his neck.

"Fine." He snapped, suddenly angry again. "I will speak with Sat Matuul."


	25. Ch 25 Intrigue in the Shadows

Chapter 25 Intrigue in the Shadows 

Fargoth felt as though he'd aged several decades. The constant fear was taking its toll, he figured, stressing his poor nerves to the point of breaking. As he walked the narrow passageways of the stronghold, he scowled into the darkened hallways, wondering why the slim windows, such as they were, could not be opened. He was feeling stifled in this place!

Making his way further into the citadel, he tried to relax his shoulders and neck. The constant dark corridors unnerved him. Even the square layout of architecture, the tight quarters, and drab furnishings bothered him. It was like living in a cave. The stronghold had been built centuries ago to fend off the Nordic invasion, but had since been abandoned. Only the undead had taken up residence, and thankfully, Valos knew how to handle them. What made matters worse, were the obvious connections to the Sixth House cult that had also called the stronghold 'home'. Again, Valos cleared out the area as best he could from the creatures. They still had to barricade the lower levels else more of the things would emerge to attack. Only the three levels of the stronghold were being used now.

There was also the matter of new 'recruits'. Cutthroats more like it, Fargoth told himself. Mercenaries of almost every race joined them…that is, all except Dunmer. Valos hated them with a passion, yet would not say why. He made a point to bring only those of the human races, a few Orcs, and an Argonion, and not one had pointed ears. His hatred encompassed all elves but targeted Dunmer in particular. He only tolerated Fargoth, and even then, the Bosmer had to endure little remarks and veiled threats.

They were a motley bunch, most of which were criminals, bandits, vagabonds and their ilk. Even the women among the ranks were edged and deadly. To what Fargoth could figure, they numbered close to fifty now; a virtual army at Valos' beck and call. Some, here of late, had disappeared, but when Fargoth asked about them, Valos only smiled inwardly and told him not to worry about it. Perhaps they tried to leave, and Valos killed them. Fargoth shuddered at the thought. The man could just as easily do the same to him!

He headed to one of the lower levels, smelling the oil of several burning lamps and of the two large braziers that lit up the larger of the chambers. The Bosmer had no idea what these rooms might have been used before, but one was now the Subjugator's lair. Several tables had been set up along the far wall, with chains on the wall and pillars, and even a cage sat to the far corner large enough to hold a man. Was this what was being planned for that Dunmer fellow?

His stomach churned at the thought, his mouth gone dry. Fargoth paused at the doorway, trying to muster some courage before facing Valos, but found what was worse, the Shadow man was also there-

"It will be soon, my lord." Valos was speaking, busying himself with work at one of the tables. A makeshift alchemy lab had been setup to which he was making any number of vile potions. One could only guess to some of the ingredients he used. Whatever it was smelled horrible. "He can't stay within the safety of the camp forever."

The Shadow man stood aside, shrouded in the contrasting shadow near a pillar. Fargoth could only see the silhouette of his form against the fireglow, taking notice of a mane of hair and outline of his dark clothing.

"You have no idea how long I've waited." The Shadow man's voice rasped in anger. "My patience is growing thin, …_very_ thin."

The Subjugator nodded, pausing only to measure some sort of powder. "If he doesn't leave the safety of that tribe, I will send men in after him."

"We can't afford a war with them, Valos." The Shadow man warned. "And I certainly do not want the other tribes discovering that we are here. Not yet. We need something more… subtle."

"I have an idea if you care to hear it…?"

"Such as?"

"While hunting, one uses a lure to bring the prey to the hunter." Valos smiled wickedly. "We simply need a viable lure."

"Feryl has want for nothing." The Shadow grunted. "What he wants, he steals, and he is no fool."

"Ah but Fargoth had informed me he travels with this young Breton, that they are quiet…charming …together."

"Charming you say?" The Shadow perked up, turning only slightly to where Fargoth could see the edge of his chin beneath his cowl. Thin lips curled into a smile. "Women were always a weakness of his. In fact, this could be perfect for what I have planned for him." He paused as Valos waited, and the words were then spoken slowly. "Yes, I must concur with this plan of yours, Valos. Brilliant, as always. Feel free to carry this out, but remember that he must not be harmed, not permanently anyway. I do not want him disfigured or damaged in any way."

"And the woman, or the swordmaster?"

Fargoth watched as the Shadow man picked up a particularly nasty looking tool meant only for one purpose- to cause pain. "Take them alive if possible, but remember its Feryl that I want." The Shadow turned slightly, revealing more of his face to Fargoth's view. The skin was pale, the lips bloodless, as if he hadn't seen the sun in years. As the chin lifted, a livid scar was worn across his throat, the cause of the ruined voice. Fargoth almost stopped breathing. _How could anyone survive an injury like that?_ "Any harm comes to Feryl, and they answer to me, understood?"

"Yes, my lord." Valos smiled, inclining his head slightly in a bow. His eyes caught sight of the Bosmer hovering in the doorway and he straightened. "Fargoth, what news?"

"Much the same." The elf replied, hoping he appeared casual and not frightened half to death. "He hasn't left yet."

"We have a new task for you." Valos told him, motioning for him to approach. "Its simple. All you need do is lure that lovely Breton away from the camp. She knows you, yes?"

Fargoth wet dry lips, trying hard not to stare at the Shadow man now obscured with his back to the brazier. His face was again lost in shadow. "She hates me if that is what you're asking."

Valos laughed. "No, I care little of her feelings of you, though at least she seems to have some taste." He chuckled at his joke as he continued. "We need you to draw her from the camp. You won't have to go far, just over the hill would suffice."

For a brief moment, Fargoth felt his body grow rigid enough to snap in two as fists clenched, fingernails bit into his palms. No, this wasn't right. Spying on others was one thing, leading them to….whatever it was they were planning, was something else. He didn't particularly like Eiryn, but only because she loathed him. Only now did he realize, despite her opinion of him, he'd always respected her. "What are you going to do to her?" He asked.

"Do to her?" The Imperial rose up brows in feigned surprise. "Ah, now Fargoth, you are so out of your element, aren't you? I'm not quite sure if you're cut out for this type of work."

The Shadow man folded arms. "I'm finding his usefulness fading quickly."

Fargoth felt his throat nearly close up in rising panic.

"Indeed." Valos agreed. "Only your willingness to follow orders is keeping you alive."

The Bosmer's eyes widened as the mouth stammered, "I- I did as I am told…I do…I _do_ as I am told!" He said, suddenly getting the sense he was being surrounded by Nix hounds. "I…I was just …asking…"

"Don't ask questions." Valos advised in a voice too calm. "And don't worry about the pretty little scout. I'd be more concerned of my own life than hers. Just do as ordered. That's all we expect from you."

Fargoth found himself nodding a bit too vigorously. He slowly backed away from the two of them as if they were rabid animals. He silently thanked whatever gods were listening that neither moved towards him. "Yes, I will do as I am told." He said, bobbing his head. "Lure her from the camp…I will do that."

The Shadow man spoke in a low tone that echoed across the room. "Take a few of the men with you. No doubt this woman is a fighter and I won't have her calling for help."

"Yes, good idea. I will do that." Fargoth said, nearly spinning on his heels to turn and flee the dungeon. As his footsteps pattered away, Valos sighed long and shook his head.

"I told you he was a bad idea." He continued to stare at the empty doorway. "I'm not sure he'll succeed."

"We can't afford mistakes" The Shadow man agreed. "You best handle this yourself, Valos. I want Feryl and his friends in short order. Understood?"

The Imperial nodded unable to hide the slight wince against these orders. He usually _gave_ orders, not followed them through.

"And when he returns," The Shadow man continued, "Do what you want with him. I see no further use for him. The girl and swordmaster can be yours as well, after I'm finished with them."

Valos smiled broadly in anticipation. "Thank you, my lord. You are very gracious!" He watched as the Shadow man left, "But I do have just one question."

The Shadow paused, waiting.

"You've never told me _why_ you want this Dunmer. I was just curious-"

"Revenge." The voice rasped. "Mostly revenge."

"Mostly?"

The voice coughed until Valos realized it was actually a chuckle against a ruined throat. "I was very fond of Feryl at one time. I will have my revenge, but I will have him as well."

The Imperial nodded, contemplating those words as the Shadow disappeared into the hallway.

Saber stood and endured the unblinking stare of the tribe's Ashkhan. He was an imposing figure. The aged face bore scars of many battles, he wore the amulets and colors of many quests. Sat-Matuul was broad in chest and held a strength that was evident in both mind and body, but it was the sheer force of his will that was most impressive.

Despite having to face the dangers of killers and monsters, Saber felt intimidated by him. With effort, he remained stoic, not wishing to show the least amount of fear to this warrior. He had received permission to speak to the tribe's leader, and now had to wait for the man to speak first.

"Nibani tells me you wish to know the about the Third Trial." He said, the thick accent almost slurring his words. Saber nodded, letting him continue. "I would first have you apologize to my tribe. Savages we might be, but who are you to judge us?"

Saber was stunned. _Apologize? To the whole tribe?_ He didn't think Nibani would say anything, but honor was obviously important within the tribe. They had little else in the way of possessions. He also underestimated the value of honor among them. "The tribe hadn't heard my words, and they were spoken in haste-"

"It matters not that my people heard you or not!" Sat-Matuul's voice rose sharply. "You are Clanfriend. Could you not know what that means? And you dishonored us by just _thinking_ such things! You will apologize to the tribe for all to hear! You will apologize to our wisewoman-"

"I already told her I was sorry-" Saber protested, but found the Ashkhan took two quick steps forward to stand inches from his face, red eyes blazing in fury. It took every effort not to draw a weapon or step back from the man, especially in light of seeing the Ashkhan grip the hilt of his own dagger at his belt. The man was furious.

"You will apologize again." The Dunmer snarled. "And if I am not satisfied, then you will do so again!"

Several moments passed as they locked stares, but it was Saber who finally turned away. He nodded, defeated. The Ashkhan was well within his right to ask him of this. "I will do as you say."

"Good." Sat-Matuul lifted his chin and turned to settle himself on a low rug of his yurt. "And I will speak further on this Third Trial, so when you are finished with humbling yourself, you will take your leave."

Saber nodded again, sitting across the firepit to shut up and listen.

The Ashkhan crossed legs, and took several moments to measure up the younger Dunmer before him. He obviously didn't like what he saw, but began to tell him what he needed to do. "You have entered the path of the Nerevarine. This is a hard thing to believe." Sat-Matuul voiced his doubts, "But Nibani Maesa has spoken to me at length of this, and I have had time to consider. Therefore I shall keep my own counsel, and set before you my own test. I do not dispute with the wise women, but their ways are not the ways of the warrior. Many before have tried the path of the Nerevarine, but _all_ have failed the warrior's test. You must have strength, courage, and cunning. These things I would test."

His doubts of Saber any attributes of a warrior were clear on his face. The scowl never relaxed as he continued. "Nearby lies Kogoruhn, the ancient halls of the forgotten house, House Dagoth. In recent time, creatures of the Blight have come to dwell there. I myself went there, with some brave hunters, and came back again, but it was a bad place, and I am not ashamed to say I was afraid, for myself and my men. If you would have from me the secret of the Third Trial, the 'caverns dark' where Azura's eye sees, you will first bring to me three tokens from dark Kogoruhn."

"The first token is Corprus weepings from a Corprus beast, to show that you are proof against the disease's corruption. The second token is a cup with the mark of House Dagoth, for I have myself seen such cups there, and will know you have seen with your eyes what I have seen with mine. The third token is the Shadow Shield, which lies on the Tomb of Dagoth Morin, in the lava tunnels deep beneath ruined Kogoruhn. Bring these things to me, and then I will tell you the secret of the Third Test."

Saber opened his mouth, then shut it. The Ashkhan was sending him to prove himself as a warrior, not to undergo the Third Trial. This was to be a test, and he couldn't help but wonder if also not some form of punishment for his harsh words. Merthisan had often chided him for being hot-headed, of speaking out of turn, and not thinking before taking action. _Seems he was right_. This wasn't the first time his mouth had gotten him into trouble.

Overall, however, Saber didn't think the test that difficult. He could use a Chameleon spell and sneak amid the creatures to find the shield and the cup, and kill a Corprus beast to get…weepings? Saber shuddered at the thought of having to collect that. Regardless, he'd killed Corprus beasts before and didn't have the worry of catching the disease a second time.

There was more challenge to apologizing to the tribe than to this. To face the tribe and swallow pride was not going to be easy for the cocky thief. "Very well."

"Now go." Sat-Matuul said waving his hand as if waving an annoying pest away.

Taking to his feet, Saber left the yurt and stood to look around the huddled array of tents. Most of the tribe were out and about, many of which sat near their tents to work on crafts, fix food, or speak in low tones of various topics. By the narrowed glares that drifted his way, Saber realized the whole tribe knew of his harsh words.

_Savages….primitives….why did he even say it?_ _I was angry…stupid…._It wasn't so long ago that he'd been called the same. As a boy he lived on the street, as Nekros' apprentice he was pathetically devoid of manners. Once free of his master, he realized how others perceived him. He didn't much like being regarded so low. He'd taken every effort to become civilized because of that, yet he still didn't have enough manners to keep himself out of trouble. Shame and guilt twisted his gut.

They began to navigate towards him almost as one, circling him as they knew what was expected of him. The men and women carried themselves with silent dignity while most of the children eyed him with mistrust. This was the tribe he was to save from Dagoth Ur, but they were also the tribe that had shown hospitality to an outsider when they normally would kill them outright.

Saber drew in a deep breath, finding it difficult to face them. "Yesterday," His voice oddly cracked against the weight of what he was to say, and he cleared his throat. This time his voice was steady. "Yesterday I spoke out of turn….out of ignorance." His gaze flickered across several others, hoping they could hear his sincerity. "I was angry-" He saw Eiryn now standing next to Merthisan who obviously had no understanding what was going on. "I was also afraid of what I must do. This does not excuse my …insult to your people." _Your people….not mine._ "I called you savages, yet I am the one who has the manners of a guar. And for this…I am truly sorry."

An apology is such as simple thing, he thought to himself, so why is this so hard? Saber found he actually felt the apology, but somehow the words were lacking in relaying that. He felt a strong presence behind him. Sat-Matuul. When Saber dared glance back at him, the warrior's face was impassive as stone. Was the admission of guilt enough?

"You may go." The Ashkhan told him, giving a slight nod to encourage him to take his things. Saber did so, moving quickly to the yurt to gather what he had to take on this quest. He also wanted to retreat from the relentless gaze of the tribe.

Eiryn frowned, moved into the yurt with him. "What's going on?"

"I have to undergo another test." He said, checking his sword for nick or blemish but never finding any. The Manos blade had never needed repaired, and the edge always stayed sharp. He slipped the weapon into its sheath and hurried to leave. "I'm to go to Kogoruhn, gather some things and return."

"Do I go with you?" She asked, beginning to follow.

He stopped short, turned on his heel to look back at her. Since their last argument, he'd been too busy to discuss anything with her. He never finished telling her his plans. There was still a very strong need to run, but he'd made his promise and had to finish this quest. Besides, gathering tokens couldn't be too hard, now could it? "No. I do this alone-"

"And when will you come back?" She asked in a voice that had grown small. She wouldn't meet his gaze, but instead, settled on the number of things he was taking with him. Naturally she assumed he was still leaving.

Angry and feeling on edge, Saber glared. "Maybe I won't be back." He snapped, gathered his bow. Even as he spoke, he felt as though he was again, speaking out of anger and stupidity. Embarrassed for this behavior he added, "In fact, I think its best that you guide Merthisan back to Balmora. I don't think there's anything left for you to do here."

Even as he spoke the words, he heard the cruelty in his voice and nearly regretted them. Hardening himself, he reasoned she should leave anyway. This place was dangerous, and only going to get worse. She shouldn't be with him. Eiryn deserved better than him. It was a kindness in the long run to cut her off now, rather than think he was going to survive this. There would be no future-

Slim brows twitched into a frown, and her brilliant eyes grew brighter with unshed tears. "Are you certain of that?"

The Dunmer heard the final warning of her words, to apologize and make things right. Part of him desperately wanted to grab her into his arms and tell her how sorry he was, despite his anger, despite everything. A greater part drew back, however. There were other things to consider now. He was eternal, and would live forever if he wasn't outright killed. The years of life ahead of him, alone and without a family felt like a great weight. She was, however, human and mortal. What future could the two of them have?

She could find someone else, have a family of her own and live happily ever after… 

"Yes." He said, feeling his throat tighten against the words. "I am certain. You're to take Merthisan back to Balmora."

Before she could reply, he left, not even staying long enough to tell Merthisan good bye. He'd given his orders; they were to return to Balmora without him.


	26. Ch 26 Departings

Ch 26 Darkness Comes

Saber tempered his anger as he made his way southeast of the camp to this placed called Kogoruhn. He had successfully avoided Merthisan, not wishing to face the aging swordsman's lecture that was sure to come. And he couldn't bring himself to say anything more to Eiryn. The look of hurt in her face still haunted him. It bothered him greatly knowing that he caused that pain, but it was necessary, he reasoned. He couldn't have her tagging along, and perhaps she wasn't so far off the mark of his leaving. They'd be better off without him, moreso if they stayed out of the way of this prophecy.

His plan was to find these tokens for Sat-Matuul and from there, see about finding a quick route to nowhere. Morrowind was a big place, and for the matter he could find a ship to somewhere else. He'd heard of some trouble up in an island called Solstheim, perhaps he'd go there for a while. Perhaps he'd consider traveling to Black Marsh or Skyrim.

Doubts, however, continued to nag him, as he found the words of Nibani reprove his decision. _"If he is the Incarnate, and he refuses to go, then we are all lost."_ If he was…,that seemed a big 'if'… then Dagoth Ur would win. Eventually the mad god would control all of Morrowind, and perhaps there'd be no hiding then.

_But I'm not the Incarnate_, He told himself firmly. _No matter what that wisewoman says. Wouldn't I know?_ Deep inside, he felt distrust in his own thoughts. What of the dreams, what of the Sixth House priest calling him Lord Nerevar? What else could it mean but he was Incarnate after all? Hadn't he dreamt of Azura herself speaking to him? Were his current doubts stemming from simply not wanting any part of this Prophecy?

Saber was so engrossed in his own dark thoughts he realized too late a sound off the right sounded too close. Rocks and pebbles skittered down the steep incline of one of the hills that bordered the trail he walked on. The road, if one could call it that, was more of a deep vale bordered to either side by steep inclines. He was, in short, boxed in, with three more men drawing close, baring weapons. Bandits?

"Damn it." He muttered, unsheathing his sword. Well perhaps he needed the warm up. A quick fight could help ease the tension and pent up anger he felt. From what he could tell, there were only three of them. Armed with swords, they had no bows or other projectiles. Their armor was a mix-match of light to medium pieces, and would hardly be enough from a skilled swordsmen such as he. "Who's first?" He called out to them, feeling cocky.

The three men were of human races. A Redguard with dark skin against the pale Chitin armor he wore, and from what Saber could see, another was a Nord with blond hair and blue eyes. He wore a helmet that shielded most of his face. The third was mixed perhaps, with the stocky frame of an Imperial, but the height and bulk of a Nord.

Coloring varied with unshaven faces and the dirty appearance of rogue criminals. One moved forward. He seemed to take control, only slightly turning to his comrades.

"He's to be taken alive." He reminded them. The other gave nods of agreement.

Saber frowned. _Alive? What in the Nine Divines for? _He swung his blade in an impressive flourish, illustrating proficiency with the sword. They hesitated, gauging their own skill against his before approaching. No doubt they were counting on their numbers to win.

"And who, exactly, wants me taken alive?" Saber asked them, hoping to get information before killing them. When no answer came, he added with a self-satisfied grin. "Isn't that going to be rather tough with all of you dead?"

Not unexpectedly, they refused to answer and instead moved in like a swarm. Saber _had_ expected that, and knew it was to make up for their lack of skill. Blocking a sword thrusting towards his gut, he spun to elbow another opponent to his right. The left adversary received a sharp kick straight into his groin, dropping him like a stone.

The other two renewed the attack, nicking Saber on a forearm before he shoved one of them back to make room. He preferred short blades over the more bulky long blades, employing quick slicing and jabbing motions over the more arching attacks these two were using. It allowed him to easily break through their defense and draw blood before he blocked their retaliation.

The Nord growled in frustration as he lunged, finding his thrust deflected, and receiving a sharp blow to his nose in return. Using street fighting techniques, Saber never entirely depended on a weapon to win. While a blade might cause more damage, a punch, kick, even a bite can discourage an opponent further.

The man roared in anger now, losing more control. His comrade decided an attempt to move behind, but Saber ducked, rolled, and was back up on his feet with a reasonable amount of distant from them both. Without hesitation to give them time to respond, he advanced, swinging the Manos blade to catch the Nord across the chest before following through to strike a fatal blow to the Redguard. They dropped after staring with stunned expression before finally collapsing dead.

The last man lay facedown and moaning, holding his crotch and trying to grip his sword that had fallen just out of reach. Saber touched the tip of his sword against the back of the man's neck.

"Now let me ask again." He murmured, barely out of breath. "Who exactly wants me taken alive?"

The man frowned, looking up to the southern ridge of hills as if expecting more reinforcements to arrive. Saber followed his gaze, but the area was empty. He tapped the tip of his weapons, pricking the skin enough to draw blood.

"I'm waiting."

"He'll kill me-" The man started to say. Suddenly he lunged, grasping the hilt of his sword. The man snarled, lifting the blade up to attack. Saber had no choice but to run the man through.

Cleaning the sword with the dead man's tunic, Saber looked suspiciously around him. The man had been looking for someone, so either they left or were still watching. Was it the person who wanted him captured alive? Sheathing the Manos blade, Saber felt it best to continue heading towards Kogoruhn for now, but this time he'd remain a bit more attentive to his surroundings.

_He's so fast!_ Fargoth had seen the whole thing under a Invisibility spell, remaining completely still beside a large boulder. He held his breath as the Dunmer frowned, looking around the edges of hills that surrounded the road for any signs of further threat. When the elf headed southward, the Bosmer stared at the bodies left behind.

Three against one! He's better than I thought. This man, Feryl, as Valos and the Shadow man kept referring to him as, had changed little since last they met. At the time, Fargoth had no idea what a splendid fighter he was. If he had known, he might have tried to become close friends, for a bodyguard if nothing else!

Fargoth stopped the train of thought. It served nothing in idle thoughts of 'what-if''. He'd been sent to lure Eiryn from the camp, but here was the Dunmer himself! Surely Valos and the Shadow man wanted this one more than her? After all, she was the reason to lure him out, and here he was! What luck!

If he could take on three against one, they'd need more men to take him down. Furthermore, if he was heading on this road, he was heading straight for the stronghold. He was walking straight into their clutches and not even the wiser!

Considering his orders, Fargoth opted to hurry back to Valos to tell him of Feryl's approach. He'd have to run if he was going to head off the Dunmer in time. They would need time to prepare and the day was coming to an end.

"I'm sure he didn't mean it." Merthisan said softly, resting his hand on the young woman's shoulder. She sniffled, wiped a tear off her cheek as she shook him off. They traveled down the road, heading towards Maar Gan hoping to reach the settlement before sundown.

Eiryn had explained what had transpired, and Saber's intention of leaving the quest. To her complete surprise, the swordmaster showed no indication of being surprised. Instead of being angry, he attempted to offer her some comfort to no avail. She was angry, frustrated, but even moreso, heart-broken.

"You weren't there." Eiryn told him. "You didn't hear him. He meant it."

The sword master shook his head slowly. "He's young. He always had a bad temper, and often doesn't think before speaking."

"He's an idiot, but he still meant what he said." She said in disgust. "He's leaving.""

Merthisan didn't reply as he followed behind her, which only infuriated her more.

"Saber didn't even bother telling you anything, not even good-bye." She persisted.. "Aren't you even mad at him, or does he do this to you all the time?"

Merthisan gave a soft snort. "I'm disappointed in him, but that is nothing new. And yes, he does this all the time." The sword master had to walk faster to keep up with the younger woman. Her anger was focused into making space between her and the Ashlander camp. "Its not the first time he's run off. But I also understand why he does this."

"Because he's an idiot." She scowled.

"He's scared, Eiryn. Saber is overwhelmed. He just needs time."

"Time for what?" She shot back. She'd stopped walking to turn and face the man, wondering why he seemed to have so much faith in the thief that let everyone down. How could be he calm about this? "Time is something we don't have much of, Master Kendari! Dagoth is growing more powerful each passing day."

The swordmaster huffed a light sigh. "You can't force him, Eiryn. Didn't he say he was doing a quest for the Ashkhan?" Eiryn nodded, wondering what his point was. "If he was leaving, do you think he'd bother doing another quest for anyone?"

She wasn't convinced. "He probably thinks he'll find treasure or something there." Eiryn said, not really believing her own words. Her aggravation flared to boiling and she waved her arms out. "How can he do this! I can't believe he just up and left!" She turned on Merthisan, finding he was the only soul to which to vent. "How can you possibly have faith in him if he keeps running off like this?"

The aged face pinched into a soft smile. His blue eyes squinted. "Because he keeps coming back. He's not perfect, Eiryn. He has fears, and hate, and insecurities like everyone else. But if you were to know what kind of boy he was, you'd appreciate what kind of man he is now."

Folding arms across her chest, she tapped an impatient foot. "Fine. Explain it to me then. Explain how a cowardly thief is better than what he was."

Merthisan dropped his pack to sit on a rock set near the road, and drew out his water skin to take a long drink. When finished, he motioned Eiryn to sit beside him, to take a break and calm down.

"First off, Saber is never what I'd refer to as a coward. Yes, he has fears, and yes he tends to run off, but a brave man is not a man who has _no fear_, but a man who _faces_ that fear. And that is what Saber does, in his own time. You remember my telling you how I met him?" He asked.

"He was a thief." She snorted in disgust, wondering how she could've been so stupid. How could she have fallen for a criminal-?

"He stole the sword he has. The Manos blade." He explained, "When I caught him stealing, I nearly knocked him senseless to keep him in the school. I was going to turn him over to the city guard. He still managed to get away."

"And he still had the sword?"

Merthisan nodded. "And I followed him. When I caught up with him, he was being severely beaten by his master."

"Beaten? What for?" She asked. "He stole the sword right? Wasn't his master pleased?"

"He was punished because he was to steal the sword without being seen." Merthisan clarified. "At the time I had no idea who the man was. That was much later, after Nekros was dead. At the time, I thought it was some thug, or a drunk that was his master. I fought him off, and to this day, I have no idea if I would've won. The man just up and left. He ran off, and I would've followed except I had this elf child bleeding on the street." He shook his head, grimacing at the memory. "Saber had broken ribs, his hand was almost crushed, and was nearly unconscious. I took him in and healed him up. Now remember, all I knew was he was a street thief."

_He was an assassin's apprentice_, Eiryn thought. That master had been none other than Nekros that nearly beat Saber half to death.

Merthisan took another drink before continuing. "The next couple of days, I have to admit I was rather surprised by the boy. He was actually well read. He even knew several languages. Saber also had a natural gift for swordplay. Oddly enough, I found he knew very little about the world around him. He knew even less of his race. He'd been told that Dark Elves were evil, blood thirsty monsters, perfect for killing. That's why Nekros wanted him, you see. A Dark Elf assassin was perfect, could do things a human assassin couldn't. And one that was trained to follow direction, to be completely obedient, was exactly what Nekros was training him for."

_The perfect killing machine_.

"So what happened?" Eiryn asked, now intrigued with the story.

The swordmaster wet dry lips. "I learned more about what his life was like." He said, his words slow and deliberate so she'd understand. "Nekros forbade him friends, and the boy had no family. He rarely smiled, never laughed, and the boy flinched at sudden moves."

Eiryn swallowed hard, realizing such action meant he'd been beaten regularly. She tried to imagine the light-hearted thief she knew as a boy being described.

"He also had a temper. Not often, but occasionally, he'd fight or break something. There was something …untamed about him." Merthisan pressed on. "There were times I was even afraid of him."

"But he was just a child."

"A child?" The man shook his head. "Saber's childhood was stolen from him, Eiryn. Though he never said anything to me, I think he must have seen Nekros' handiwork, what he did to his victims. Remember, he was also being trained by that monster."

He sighed, wiping a hand through his hair in a nervous manner. "A young girl worked for me. She was so intrigued with Saber. To her, he was so exotic and fascinating. She was a year or so younger…maybe. We don't know how old Saber actually is, but regardless, the girl warmed up to him, and much to my surprise he seemed to like her as well. Lyra was the one who taught him to smile."

Lyra….the woman Saber mentioned before. Eiryn recalled his mention of her, how he bought the Blue Lady for her, and she'd been his first woman.

Merthisan smiled now. "She was the daughter of a courtesan. A very bright girl she was, and she was always laughing and joking." He paused then, lost in memories. "Only after Saber was with me for a few weeks, Lyra disappeared. We had no idea where to even look for her, but Saber knew. You see, Nekros had taken her, to punish him."

"But Nekros didn't kill her." Eiryn said, knowing that as fact. Saber had bought the Blue Lady for her, right?

Merthisan shook her head. "No, she wasn't killed, but Nekros intended to. He wanted to teach Saber a lesson, to show him that friends and people you care for are disability, not a benefit to have." For a brief moment he fell silent, remembering a very dark time. "Saber had to go to him, alone. He never told me he even left. And Saber to this day, never told me details of that night. Lyra returned, letting us know what he'd done, freeing her and facing Nekros alone. You can imagine my surprise the boy shows up late that night."

"He killed Nekros then, didn't he?"

Merthisan nodded, his eyes losing most of their sparkle. "Saber refused to tell me. In fact, he never did. He won't speak of it. I heard of Nekros' death from the city guard days later. But something happened that night…I don't know what. I'm thinking something more happened between them. Nekros was the closest thing to a 'father' Saber knew, and he had to kill him. Killing a man is not easy for a man, let alone a boy." He swallowed hard.

"What happened then?" Eiryn asked softly.

"He came back to return the Manos blade. I offered him a place at my school. He refused." Merthisan spoke in a flat tone, perhaps stunned the elf boy had refused, or he blamed himself for not pressing harder for him to stay with him.

"How could he refuse? He'd finally have a home-"

The swordmaster smiled gently, placing his hand on her shoulder to be sure he had her attention. "Because he wanted, above all else, to have his freedom."

Eiryn was shocked, but suddenly understood why Saber felt so trapped. He wanted to be independent, he valued his freedom. Ever since he'd been in prison, now in Morrowind, he had little choice in anything. Just as he was confined behind bars in prison, he was now being confined by the Prophecies, of an overwhelming, encompassing Fate which most likely led to a dangerous end.

"And Eiryn," Merthisan said continuing in his gentle voice. "Can you understand now what manner of man he _could have_ been?"

Merthisan was right. Saber was very close to becoming a cold blooded killer, but instead opted to be a rogue thief. Now his chosen profession didn't seem so bad after all. In fact, his wanting to escape for a while also seemed understandable.

"But why a thief then?" Eiryn countered. "He could've just as easily followed a path that wasn't criminal."

Merthisan again nodded in agreement. "His skills were mastered in the art of stealth and killing. But moreso, Saber never considered himself anything but an outsider."

This still didn't provide comfort to the scout with his words on her returning to Balmora. He wanted nothing more to do with her. Saber might be simply cross with her, or perhaps she'd pushed too hard in regards to his staying. Either case, she was taking the swordmaster back to the city and most likely would never see Saber again.

She forced a smile and nodded. "We better get going if we want to make it to Maar Gan before nightfall." Merthisan didn't see the silent tears stream down her face as she took the lead.


	27. Ch 27 Darkness Comes

Ch. 27 Darkness Comes

Something was wrong. Something just didn't feel right. Saber entered the stronghold with a sense of trepidation, almost as if being watched. Yet, he found nothing in the way of Corprus beasts or even creatures in the empty halls. Only briefly while outside, he thought he had spotted movement on the roof, yet could see no evidence upon a second glance. Once inside, he found torches burning on the walls and rooms that seemed to have been occupied, and quite recently.

Pausing to inspect some items on a table, the thief noted nothing of value, mostly dishes and junk. Then, a sound; voices or cloth rustling? He grew still, trying to hear more, but the sound- whatever it was- had faded. Perhaps the beasts were further down the levels of the great fortress. Still…it seemed odd that nothing and no one was here. Another sound was almost as if footsteps were running…No one could live among Corprus beasts…could they? Saber doubted that and considered it possible someone had already cleared out the wretched things.

Gripping the sword's hilt, he cautiously headed at what was the outer vestibule. Here, in days of old, warriors would open the thin windows to send volleys of arrows to the enemies outside, and this ran along the perimeter of the structure. A few rooms were spaced apart, most likely being chambers used for planning battle or used to bring the wounded. Now they seemed scattered with junk, and a few bedrolls.

Saber sniffed the air, catching the faint scent of incense. It masked ever so lightly further smells of leather and steel. Bandits? This might be the hideout of a group of smugglers. There was no sign of smuggled goods. Besides, how could bandits fend off Sixth House cultists?

Strange…. very strange… 

He discovered two doors on this level and the one clearly would take him to the roof. No reason to go there, he thought, opting to take the lower levels. Sat-Matuul had said the shield token was beneath Kogoruhn. He had yet to find a cup or a Corprus beast.

Listening to the door, he found no sound beyond and slowly opened the portal to sneak in. He readied his Chameleon spell. Such magic worked for only a short time and he would cast the spell once he found some danger. He had no wish to drain mana here of all places. Ears listened, and eyes darted to all directions. The narrow hallway further on had one other door with no sound from within. Another entrance led straight ahead and seemed the most likely route to where he needed to go. Opening the door as quietly as he could, he discovered it led to a vast room, where a stone bridge connected to ramps guiding down into the spacious chamber. Thick pillars lined the room in two rows, guiding in either direction to yet another set of doors.

Saber stepped out, realizing too late a large form looming up from below. _A Flame Atronach!_ The Daedric creature was an elemental. Atronachs also took form as the elements of Stone or Frost, and were formidable opponents indeed. Fortunately for a quick and nimble thief, he often could use speed against their bulk. Saber knew little about the creatures, except who had nagging thought continued to distract him. They were summoned beings! Who summoned this!

The creature hissed like steam off a stove. The thing moved slowly with deliberate intention towards him. Saber keyed the Manos Blade, invoking the soul trap magick within as he drew out a small soul gem. There was some skill for a fighter to soul trap beings such as this. One had to simultaneously concentrate on the spell to draw forth the soul into the crystal, while fending the thing off and hopefully not getting killed in the process.

Soul gems earned him considerable gold when sold to enchanters, and worth the risks. They were essential to enchanting items with powerful spells, and any enchanter would pay top price for a Flame Atronach. Saber fell into a semi-crouch ready to spring as the beast neared him. It stood nearly ten feet tall, with fire aglow on his red skin. Arms and legs were spindly, with torso and thighs in a casing like armor, and reeking of brimstone.

The elemental heaved with arms raising, readying a spell to throw fire when Saber finally darted forward and struck a blow in the vulnerable mid-section. The beast reeled, slashing out with hands and claws. Saber managed to duck from the blow. Smoke drifted off the heated skin, and a long drawn out sound reminded Saber of bellows to a forge. It reminded Saber of one taking a deep breath.

Arms rose once again, and with lightning fast speed, he once again darted forward to slash viciously at its vulnerable stomach. Timing was essential here. He had to attack and dodge as a misty glow swirled around the beast. The soul trap had taken effect. Now all Saber had to do is kill the Atronach before the spell ran out.

Muttering the incantation, he focused on duck and deflect. His race was a benefit here, having a very high resistance to fire. The heat of the creature didn't bother him, and as the claws came a bit too close a few times, Saber knew they'd not trouble him as much if he were human. The Manos blade sang against the air each time he swung or thrust, easily shifting aside to avert deadly claws. Finally, the creature gave a shrill scream before falling backwards dead.

Catching his breath, Saber inspected the soul gem and found the pale blue crystal now sparkled with orange light. It even felt warm to the touch. He smiled inwardly, pleased that the next time he reached civilization he could either gain a powerful magick item, or have gold enough to travel anywhere he wanted.

A low snarl caught his attention, startling him. He looked behind to the only way out, finding it blocked by a woman…Saber blinked. No, not a woman. She was once human however, a Nord by the looks of it with waves of golden blond hair. Eyes that were once blue were now a bright yellow, glowing back an inhuman hunger for blood. The face may have been pretty at one point, except now ghastly pale and veined with shadows around the eyes.

The Vampire bared fangs in a caricature of a smile.

Vampires? Sat-Matuul said nothing of vampires! 

Another growl came from behind, and Saber turned to find more of the undead coming up the ramps. While fighting the Atronach, he hadn't seen them emerge from rooms below. He came to realize the trouble he found himself in when he counted as many as ten. Somehow, he must have stumbled into a vampire's den.

Ten against one were not fair odds, not in the least!

Focusing on the way out, Saber turned to the female vampire and threw his hand in her direction. A burst of orange-red sparks took formed from fingertips, rolling into a ball of fire. She hissed angrily, jumping high to clear the blast. He nearly opted to use the Chameleon spell but remembered they could just as easily smell him. He also couldn't paralyze them. Not wishing to waste the mana needed for spell work, he opted for techniques that are more basic. Throwing another fireball, he watched the vampire leap out of the way, opening just enough space to make a break for the door. Racing forward, something hit him from behind.

At first, he had no idea what it was, but soon discovered a weakness caused him to stumble, and slam into the wooden portal. What the-? Not wishing to find out more, Saber yanked open the door, in the hopes of making a hasty retreat. However, he hadn't expected to run into a body blocking his escape. It was warm. It was human, however he soon realized the Redguard fighter he now faced was not an ally.

A fist slammed into Saber's jaw nearly knocking him out before he lashed back with a swipe towards the man's head. The Redguard raised his sword just in time to block the blow, following by a kick that sent the Dunmer flying back into the cavernous room.

_The fool! What was he thinking? The Vampires will kill them both now!_ Lurching back to his feet, Saber found the undead creatures rushing up at him. He struck wildly, hitting three as they moved forward, opening grievous wounds. Now desperate, he jumped off the bridge. Using his levitation, he floated down into a run, hoping to keep a respectful distance between himself and these creatures. Using the throwing daggers, he threw with deadly precision and brought two more down, watching them combust into ash.

The Vampires fell into pursuit, and an odd game of cat and mouse soon ensued. Saber kept ahead, focusing on the edge of the pack to try to thin the numbers. Realizing his tactic, they began to spread out, trying to outflank him.

_Damn it…_He cast another levitation, shooting upwards to reach the stone bridge above and, with luck, fight his way out of this place. Just as his feet touched the bridge, he felt another wave of weakness that drove him to his knees. He looked up from his kneeling position, perplexed and confused that vampires would know such spells as this, and instead, found he was staring into the icy gaze of an Imperial smiling in triumph.

What the-? Another human? Where did he come from? He seemed to have appeared from nowhere. The only explanation was the man had shrouded himself in magic. Now even more desperate, he cast a recall spell that would teleport him from this mess into a marked location- the Ashlander camp- posthaste…Except nothing happened.

He tried again, only to have no results. The Imperial must have cast some sort of dispel on him!

Saber felt the Vampires swarm up behind him and lunged forward to roll onto his back and slash upwards. He managed to open the stomachs of two more before they burst into ash, while the others descended upon him like a pack of Nix Hounds. He fought like a weasel, kicking and squirming, and trying to swing the blade. Too many hands reached for him, and the sword fell from his grasp.

Growling in growing desperation and anger, the Dunmer brutally kicked legs and twisted his body in the hopes of falling over the edge of the bridge. Too many hands held him firmly however, and he knew he was finished. They hauled him to his feet, pulling him in too many directions as he tried to gain his bearings. Whatever spell had hit him, left him dizzy and feeling nauseous. Gasping for breath, he heard an odd voice amid the din of vampires delighting in his capture.

"Very good Valos." The voice hissed at the smug Imperial. "You've delivered him, as promised."

Saber looked up, seeing a robed figure step forward, clapping hands as if he enjoyed the spectacle_. Was this the one who wanted me captured?_

"It's been a long time…" The voice rasped in a low guttural tone. "A good fight, Feryl, but then, I expected nothing less."

Saber felt blood turn into ice. He looked in horror as the Shadow pulled back his hood, revealing the pale and familiar face of Nekros. The face was nearly white from lack of sun. Once his eyes had been a shade of coal, they now glowed an otherworldly gleam of the undead.

"No…" The Dunmer breathed, instinctively drawing back. Held tight by the mob of vampires, he had no choice but to face his worst fear. "You're dead-"

"Yes." Nekros smiled, baring fangs. His chin lifted to reveal the scarred throat that ruined his voice. "I know."

"Bartender!" Eiryn barked at the publican of the Eight Plates. She slid her tankard down the stretch of countertop to the Dunmer woman wiping her hands on a cloth. "Another drink!"

The woman scowled, barely snatching the cup in time before it reached the precarious edge. Red eyes narrowed dangerously as she headed back to Eiryn's end of the bar. "I think you've had yerself enough of drink for one night, Sera."

_Enough?_ Eiryn twisted her face into a frown. _I'm not sufficiently numb enough to have had enough! _Standing to her full height and discovering she was shorter by five inches, Eiryn decided a loud voice would more than make up for her stature. "I'm paying in gold, Dunmer, so get me another drink!"

A heavy hand rested on her shoulder, which she promptly yanked away. She'd all but forgotten Master Kendari was there. He insisted on joining her for a drink or two upon arriving in Balmora. She hadn't said a word further on Saber and his abandoning the quest, nor of anything else for that matter. Why did he feel it necessary to follow her around? "C'mon Eiryn. I'll walk you home."

"I don't want to go home." She pouted, shaking him off. Home? What home? Her father's stark apartment? What home was that? Earlier, she found her father's single room apartment too empty yet also too full of memories to stay the night. "Besides, I thought I was staying here!"

"Then let me walk you to your room-" Merthisan began.

His tone pushed her near the edge, and anger boiled. "I don't need a nursemaid." She snapped, trying to sit back on the low stool. Unfortunately, she found she was too unbalanced. Missing the chair, she fell to the floor and ended up looking at pairs of feet to the assembled patrons watching her debacle.

"Come on, Eiryn." Merthisan smiled, helping her to her feet. She staggered a few feet before catching herself, and mustered as much dignity as she could before she headed for the door. "Your room is that way."

"I want to go for a walk." Eiryn announced dramatically. "The air will do me good."

"If you don't end up falling over on the street." Merthisan told her, dutifully following behind.

The cool night air lifted her spirits by a tad, and she fought the urge to simply keep going until she didn't feel the emptiness inside of her any longer. _He's gone_…her mind grasped the reality that Saber was actually gone. Why should she be surprised? Hadn't he left before when she found him in Suran? _What do I do now?_

Without a destination, she walked along the torch-lit streets of Balmora, with Merthisan in tow. He remained silent, taking the role of protector as they wandered the empty streets. They passed by a few suspicious Hlaalu guards, which gave passing glances or what _seemed_ to be glances. Who could see their expressions thru the helms of their armor?

"Eiryn." Merthisan finally spoke, breaking the awful quiet. The sound jarred her senses. "Look-"

She blinked a few times to clear her vision to note a handful of rough looking men heading towards the West end of town. They were just crossing the short bridges that separated Balmora by a shallow river, heading under the archway of the West end of the city. Normally Eiryn wouldn't give them a second thought, except they held weapons in their hands. They also moved with purpose, eyes forward, chins down, even casting cautious glances over their shoulders. They reminded her how Nix Hounds moved when they hunted. _They are looking for someone…and for trouble…_

Merthisan tugged her sleeve to draw her into a shadowed crevice between buildings. "Shhh." He whispered, frowning.

"Do you know them?" She whispered back.

He gave a quick shake of the head. Lips pressed into a firm line. "No, but my gut tells me that we best stay out of sight."

Eiryn had to agree. She couldn't quite describe how she knew. Instinct she supposed, somehow these men had something to do with her. Perhaps it was due to the fact so few houses were at that end of town, or they were heading like a Kwaama line straight to the corner of town where her father's house resided. Maybe it had something to do with paranoia. Either case, there was no harm in laying low for the time being.

Time passed quickly as the men emerged from the streets, moving like a pack that lost the scent.

"Now what?" One of the men muttered in frustration. The group of men numbered five, which seemed a bit excessive to be seeking someone. They must be looking for more than one, or a single, powerful person.

The leader, a well-muscled Orc gave a grunt. "We'll check the taverns. The strider caravaner said they arrived today. They couldn't have gone far-"

"Unless they teleported through the mage guild." Another man voiced.

The idea paced their walking to the market square to see if the mage guild was open. This led them closer to where Merthisan and Eiryn hid in the shadows, and she could now see faces clearly. All were humans save the one Orc; of Nords, Bretons, and an Imperial bearing short swords and axes. Dangerous men…by the eager look in their eye. Yes, these were men hunting for someone. Eiryn nearly shivered.

Another man ran up almost out of breath. "The Eight Plates. She's staying at the Eight Plates." He gasped, motioning to the direction he came from. The men followed him back.

Eiryn swallowed and gave Merthisan a quick glance. He tensed at their words, instinctively drawing her closer to him with a protective arm. She was the only 'she' staying at the Eight Plates. They were seeking _her_ out!

_What could they want with me?_ She thought with growing trepidation.


	28. Ch 28 Nightmares

Chapter 28 Nightmares

Too weakened to stand, Saber was literally dragged behind the man Valos as he led him back into his room. And Nekros- _Nekros is alive!_ His mind refused to accept it. It had been almost ten years since he'd killed him. Memories flashed of his death, the blade sliding across his throat, and blood pooling about his head. He'd dragged the lifeless body to the river and watched in horror as the unblinking, and dead…yes, they were very dead...eyes stared up at him.

Saber made another attempt to struggle against the vampires that held him, but whatever magick the one named Valos used against him left him weak as a baby. Feet scrabbled against the floor as they hoisted him by his arms to stumble along between them.

_Nekros…after all this time…alive!_ No…dead, or more specifically undead. How long had he been living the life of a vampire? Saber had no memory of ever seeing him drink blood, sleeping in a coffin, even baring fangs. He did, however, remember their nocturnal lifestyle, how the windows were always covered, rarely if ever did they see the sun. How could he have kept his vampirism so well hidden?

As they entered the locked room he'd passed before, Saber felt his stomach lurch at the sight of the dungeon that the room was transformed into. Where once the area might have housed a war room of the ancient Dunmer, now the Imperial had managed to arrange an executioner's dream, and a victim's worst nightmare!

Along the walls were inset with chains, near table harboring nearly every manner of device that invoke fear in the heart of the bravest of men. Blades of razor sharp steel, bodkins, tongs, and a number of other surgical tools were displayed on a velvet cloth. A cage sat off to the far corner, and the center of the room had a slightly raised dais set between two stone pillars. Fastened into the stone was a unique web of chain and pulleys. Saber felt his mouth go dry at the sight of it.

He jerked against the vice-like grip of his captors and found himself practically thrown to a raised dais. Before he could try to run, they were forcing manacles at wrists and ankles. He fought as best he could, even daring to bite at them, but a quick wave of Valos' hand, everything went black. The spell of blindness frightened him more than the draining weakness. He could now see nothing of his enemies as they forced him into his confinement.

"Feryl…really." Nekros chided him, clucking his tongue. "I thought you've grown out of that type of behavior."

Blinded, every fiber of his senses on edge, Saber found it difficult to breath. He roused anger, hoping to keep terror abated. As chains were pulled, his arms protested. Pain brought him sharply into focus. Any movement now only served to shoot agony into his joints as he was pulled spread-eagled between the stone columns.

"You bastard-" Saber growled, using anger to mask his fear. He cringed when he felt someone approach. He heard the footsteps, felt their presence standing too close. Splayed like a carcass, he felt vulnerable and wide open.

"You're not an easy mer to find." Nekros spoke now, definitely too close. The tone was low, the voice throaty and ragged. "I've spent almost ten years seeking your whereabouts."

Saber heard his own breathing quicken too much in panic, and he forced himself to calm. He said nothing, refusing to respond. He would remain impassive. He'd not want to give Nekros the satisfaction of knowing the extent of his fear.

"Valos." Nekros commanded, "I want him to see me."

A sharp pain stabbed into his eyes, and Saber jerked back to find Nekros inches away from him. The Vampire smiled, baring teeth, and the glowing eyes remained unblinking as he studied his victim. Saber was still grasping the truth the man was before him. Here before him stood everything that terrified him, that woke him in cold sweats from nightmares, that brought back a flood of memories he had wanted to forget.

Nekros had changed somewhat, and the differences were more than just the apparent transformation of being a vampire. Back then, Nekros kept his shoulder length hair loose and unkempt giving an almost vagabond appearance. Now hair was bound back in a neat ponytail at the nape of his neck. Brilliant yellow eyes, once dark, were set wide, the nose straight, his lips thin. He was handsome by some standards, except for the complete lack of humanity in his expression. He was like a statue, cold and devoid of anything human.

The vampire wore mostly blacks, accentuated with deep burgundy and wine colored trim. There was a certain level of elegance to him now. Years ago, he held little concern for appearance. To Feryl, he had always been a large, viscous looking man. Nekros wasn't so large now, Saber noticed. In fact, Saber guessed he was as tall if not an inch taller, although not carrying the weight. Imperials were stocky and built with bulk. Elves were lightweight, but carried speed.

Valos was thumbing a particularly nasty curved dagger before he stepped forward and began slicing through the light armor leather Saber wore. The Dunmer flinched, hoping the blade would not cut too close, but the man worked the blade like a surgeon.

Clothing was stripped and the dampness of the room caused him to shiver. Amid the armor and clothing, Valos continually found secreted weapons and tools Saber used. Lockpicks, slim blades, a dagger, even throwing stars were hidden in pockets or folds of clothing. The vampires snickered at the growing pile of items, clearly impressed with the amount of weaponry the elf had on him.

Nekros eyed him curiously, golden eyes narrowing. "You're very quiet, Feryl. What are you thinking?"

Saber was finding it very difficult to hide his trembling. He wet lips before speaking. "I was thinking you look shorter than I remember-" At least he _sounded_ braver than he felt. Even before he finished his sentence, a hand shot up and clipped him under the jaw, snapping his head back. The blow left the taste of blood in his mouth.

"Well yes," Nekros spoke as if nothing had happened. "I might seem a bit shorter, being you've grown up." The yellowed eyes flickered across and down his body, noting the handiwork of his henchman. Now completely stripped of all clothing and weapons, Saber felt exposed and vulnerable indeed. "Grown up rather well, I might add."

Nekros moved to circle him, taking slow deliberate steps to let boots click against the stone floor. He prowled around his 'apprentice' and seemed to revel in the scene before him. Something in that look made Saber feel fear pinch his determination to give the man nothing of his apprehension. Memories of this man and what he'd enjoy doing to his 'pet elf' made him feel sick. He swallowed the metallic taste in his mouth, and wondered if this bloodsucker intended on killing him now.

"I can see you still hate me…fear me as well." Nekros purred, enjoying the drama. He paused behind him to lean in from behind, blowing cool breath against his ear. "I can practically taste it. Good to know you still have so much fire in you. I must admit your killing me was unexpected." He paused to chuckle gently. "I knew eventually you would _try, _however. I hadn't considered you to attempt my murder so young."

Saber tried not to cower when Nekros moved in front of him once again, standing too close. Almost by instinct, his reaction was the same as when he was a boy. With effort, he lifted his chin defiantly. "So now what? You kill me?" _Please, just end it now. Better that than any other plans he might come up with!_

"Kill you? Is that why you think you're here?" Nekros was aghast. His thin mouth curled into a wicked smile. "My dear boy, I have no intention of killing you."

_That's what I was afraid of_… Saber slumped a bit in his shackles.

The undead creature trailed a long fingernail along Saber's jaw. "No, my wayward apprentice, I have no thought of killing you-" The mouth widened to expose his sharp fangs. "Not in the sense that you think."

Saber recoiled not wanting to be touched. "What then?"

Nekros laughed, a dry wheezing sound that bubbled up from his damaged throat. "You're too valuable to me to let go." He sighed, shaking his head. "This was always the case, or hadn't you figured that out? I vested quite a bit of time and energy into making you what you are. I provided training, discipline…I took a wild Dark Elf from the streets and formed him into …" The vampire paused before placing his hand on Saber's chest. "This. Yes, your Master Kendari might have given you some training, but _I_ am the one that provided the stronger influence."

Much as Saber wanted to refute that claim, Nekros was right. His informative years had been spent with the monster and to this day, many of his habits were from what the monster taught him.

"Tell me, Feryl." Nekros's expression softened. "Did you feel nothing when you killed me? Was it truly out of mercy to end my pain?"

"I felt that I was finally free-" Saber began, feeling an odd sense the vampire might be using a charm spell on him. Why else would they be wasting time in discourse when he should be plotting an escape?

"Free? Freedom is an illusion, dear boy. None of us are truly free."

"Free from you." Saber spat.

"Again, an illusion." Nekros moved hands behind his back to stroll slowly back and forth. The mannerism was often how he'd lecture Saber as a boy. "Being I was not completely dead, you were never truly free, now were you? And free from what? Discipline? Training? Really, Feryl, do you think that I didn't have your best interests in mind?"

Could he not realize how cruel he was? The man was insane! "You were a monster, Nekros-"

"Monster?" The vampire splayed a hand over his chest, eyes widened in mock surprise. He even gave a derisive snort at the idea. "You are an ungrateful wretch, aren't you? Yes, I punished you when you were disobedient, but did I not heal you afterward? I cared for you like a son, and how did you repay me? You try to kill me!" He stepped closer, the serene face twisted into anger.

Saber sneered, released his contempt. "A father? What you did to me, no father does…"

"How would you know?" Nekros leaned forward, unblinking as he glared anger to his captive. Saber felt small again, trying to remember a time he had parents, or anything remotely similar to a family. A brow rose up mockingly. "Eh? No answer to that? You know nothing of family. I can tell you fathers do indeed treat their sons such as I did…and worse."

Dumbstruck, the elf was taken aback by Nekros admission. Never once had the thought occurred to him that in his own past, the man might have been a victim of another. He never considered Nekros' history, what made him into the monster he was now. Saber had assumed the delight in causing pain was enough, that the man was insane.

"Why didn't you kill me?" Saber was curious about this. If Nekros had been a blood-sucking vampire all this time, why had he never drank his blood?

Nekros straightened, perhaps relieved on the change of subject. "I didn't kill you when you were a boy because I wanted you grown before I did." Saber frowned at this, feeling his blood turn to ice as he could only guess the answer for that. "I wanted you filled out as it were, to have all your potential before you were changed."

_Changed?_ Saber felt his throat constrict as blood drained from his face. Nekros was watching his reaction, pleased with the affect his words had on his victim. "That's right…" He hissed in delight. "You will be _embraced_ and become as I am, and the rest of my clan."

Changed into a vampire… 

"No…" Saber felt the weight of terror pressing against him, his mind almost numb with disbelief_. He can't make me…can he?_ "No…I won't join you."

Nekros smirked. "Of course I don't expect you to _want_ to join me…not yet." The brilliant eyes glinted, his thin brows rose up in pretended revelation. "Valos, however, might change your mind."

"What makes you think I won't try to destroy you, even if I'm changed?" Saber challenged him. If he was lucky, he might be able to anger the vampire enough to kill him. "I hate you…will hate you for eternity."

"Yes, I know you feel this way now, but trust me, things will be different once you're mine." Nekros smirked. He was so sure, so confident in how things were going to be. "Once embraced and once transformed, you'll see things my way. I knew that was how it was going to be when I took you in as a foundling."

Jerking violently against the shackles, something akin to hysteria rose up in the Dunmer. If his legs were free, he might be able to kick at him- "You'll have to kill me first-" He snarled.

To this Nekros laughed, coughing out a ragged sound. "That's the general idea." He waved his hand to Valos who stood patiently waiting near his tools. "But I am being thoughtless. Valos has his orders. There is the small item of your punishment, and I need you broken before I'm willing to embrace you. I wont have you fight me-" He paused to step very close against his victim, enjoying the apparent trembling, the rapid breath of his fear. Nekros spoke to Valos without breaking eye contact with Saber. The Dunmer felt cold and alone. "Do not maim him. I do not want him damaged beyond repair. But teach him some respect."

His laughter echoed in the Dark Elf's ears….

"We can't take the Silt Strider." Eiryn whispered to Merthisan as they crouched low atop one of the square houses of Balmora. From this angle, they could see the market square and the strider port. Two of the mercenaries had been posted to keep an eye on the only means to leave the city aside from walking. They even watched the Mage's guild, so teleporting to Ald Ruhn was also out of the question.

Eiryn also notice there was more than the five of them as well. She found the city soon crawled with a number of the thugs, and the city guard was nowhere to be found.

The swordmaster and the scout could only assume these men had something to do with Saber, and having few other options, would have to find another way to leave Balmora without being discovered.

"Looks like we walk." The swordmaster muttered, looking in the direction of the strider port.

"We can head to Caldera, they have a mage's guild there. We can teleport to Ald Ruhn then." The scout suggested, feeling practically naked without the weight of a pack on her shoulders and her staff in her hands. The only weapons between them was Merthisan's long sword, for she'd left all her things in her room at the Eight Plates. She'd buy or trade for more supplies in Caldera.

"How long of a walk is that?" Merthisan asked her, moving along the rooftops until they reached a low balcony.

"We'll reach Caldera by morning if we hurry, and don't face any trouble." Trouble, however, was something that was inevitable on the roads in Vvardenfell. If not bandits, then they'd encounter any type of wild beast on the way there. _I really need to learn some stealth skills_, she thought to herself. How Saber managed to get to and from places with avoiding the Silt Striders was remarkable.

Traveling thru the northern archway, Eiryn heard a voice call after them. She dared a glance over her shoulder, seeing one of the men had caught sight of their exit, and she nudged Merthisan to quicken the pace. "Running might be a good idea…" She told him, breaking into a fast sprint.

Merthisan wanted to stand and fight, but good as was with a sword, they were sorely outnumbered. Damn it! What could they want? Like a pack of predators, the men stormed after them.

"Get them!"

"Don't let them get away!"

"Faster!"

Their voices were growing ragged, as the scout managed to stay ahead at a fair distance. Just as she thought their chances were improving, something hit the back of legs, tying her up to fall forward- hard!- on her stomach. Breath was knocked out of lungs, leaving her wheezing and stunned for several valuable moments.

Merthisan drew out his sword, readying to face their foes, to fight to the end. "Get away, you dogs!" He snarled, engaging them with ferocity as they descended upon them. Even as he killed two, the remaining men were obvious on catching them both alive.

Eiryn struggled against the strange bolo that had tangled her legs. Even as she found her footing, she knew they were fighting a losing battle. She had no weapon, and the sheer numbers of attackers would soon have their way. What could they want?

"My lord Nekros." Valos spoke, giving a respectful bow before the vampire 'lord' as he preferred to be called. It sickened the Imperial to serve this vile thing, but Nekros had been persuasive and so far, generous as well. Gold was the most convincing, but more importantly was the command promised to the outcast Legionnaire. With having been unduly dismissed from his post, Valos found life to hold no meaning. Nekros had given him purpose and power. "The Dunmer's friends will be soon within our grasp."

The vampire wasn't looking at him but studying a map stretched out on one of the tables in a lower room. Dressed in velvets, the elegance was almost distracting. "And Feryl?"

Valos clenched teeth, feeling too disregarded as usual. Why does he care so much for that wretched creature? "He is, as you've said, quite resistant to pain."

"A challenge to you I'm sure." Nekros commented wryly.

"He has yet to yield, but I'm confident in time, he will come around." The Butcher told him. "You have plans to use his friends against him?"

"Very observant, as always." The vampire said with a smile. He looked up, motioning for Valos to step closer and stand before him. "One of his greatest flaws is this desire for relationships with others. I've tried to teach him otherwise, but I believe my plan will prove more effective."

Valos patiently waited for more information, and more importantly, his role in this plan.

"Once Feryl realizes he has no one in the world left to him, he will see that we are all that he has left." Nekros seemed pleased with his idea. Valos was not so sure. Understanding close ties to others was not a strong point in either of them. His own family was distant, his marriage arranged, and even the children he had left for schooling before he learned their names. How could Nekros or even he understand the subtle mechanisms of the heart?

"Why not simply embrace him?" The butcher had seen enough with the other vampires and their transformation to know that once enthralled by Nekros, once transformed into one of his clan, their loyalties were surmount. He himself waited for that special moment when the vampire would change him as well. His 'humanity' if one might call it that, was still useful however. Valos could still travel in the sun, procure supplies for their base, and keep the human mercenaries in line for the time being.

Nekros leaned back in his chair, touching a finger to his chin in consideration of the question. "Feryl needs to learn who is his master. He understood once, and needs to be reminded. Once he comes to me willingly, then I will embrace him. Not before." He hesitated, tilting his head slightly to set a calculating eye on the Butcher. "You don't like him."

"I wasn't aware that I had to like him." Valos spoke in a dry tone. "You know my feelings about…elves."

"Don't think of him as an elf then, Valos. We will all be of one blood. He will be one of us." _His_ blood, _his_ clan.

"But a Dunmer? How can he ever be trusted?"

Nekros' smile widened. "He's no ordinary Dunmer. Even _you_ must see that. That being said, once he is embraced, he will be like the others."

"Obedient?" Valos questioned this reasoning. All master vampires thought themselves godlike, instilling power over others, creating thralls and new minions only to find within their ranks a traitor or one willing to try to overthrow the leader.

When Valos had been offered to be eventually embraced, he had to admit, the lure of power was enticing. Now, however, seeing such a willful Dark Elf and Nekros' assurance he will be unquestionably obedient, was raising more questions than providing answers.

"You have your part as well, Valos. Feryl needs punishment, but more importantly, he needs to know who is master." Nekros turned back to his maps in a subtle way of dismissing the Butcher. "And remember…he is not to be maimed."

"Yes my lord." Valos glared behind the vampire's back.


	29. Ch 29 Embracing

Ch 29 Embracing the Dark

"Wretched, arrogant Dunmer!" Valos spat antagonism, hitting the whip against Saber's bare back with each word. The sound cracked in the air, followed by searing, burning pain. The whip must have been soaked in brine or some form of poison, leaving streaks of fire across exposed flesh. Saber flinched against the sting, choking off sound to not give this bastard the satisfaction of hearing him scream. "Worthless, elves!" Each word punctuated with another vicious snap. Saber clenched teeth so hard he felt they'd break, and the noticeable trickle of either sweat or blood from a number of open wounds left him shivering.

How long had he been tortured? There was no telling of time in this place, no windows that would show day to night, and being they offered no food or water, Saber could only guess he'd been there for only a few hours, maybe a day or two. The metal shackles bit into wrists, now rubbed raw and bleeding, as his weight further agonized joints. He'd hoped to pass out, but Valos knew exactly how to keep a man awake and alive. Using potions and spells in his inventory, a victim would regain consciousness only to face more pain repeatedly.

Saber was gasping for air, swooning from the severe pain he felt across his back, chest, and legs. He watched in dismay as the man rifled through items laid out on the table in clear view. All manner of metal tools glowed in firelight, tools for only one service- to cause pain. Also in full view was what was left of Fargoth hanging on the wall in front of him. He hadn't recognized him before, but now it was difficult not to notice the body. The tiny form twitched now and then, giving semblance of being alive. Saber wasn't sure. So maimed, he doubted anyone could be so badly broken and yet be alive.

Valos had cut off Fargoth's ears, stripped skin off his body, and subsequently removed fingers and toes. Bones were broken, or worse, pulled out of joint. A bloodied cloth covered the empty sockets where once his eyes had been. Beneath the body, a large basin captured any blood that might fall to feed the vampire clan.

Valos knew the presentation of his tools and the hapless victims would only add to the growing fear that gnawed at courage. It worked beautifully. Fargoth was a livid reminder of what Valos could just as well do to _him_ if not for Nekros' order to leave no serious damage. The ever-present brands, bodkins, and curving blades also sat a grim foreshadowing of what was to come.

So far, the Imperial was venting. Whipping with an interment punch to the face was all he'd done so far. He hated elves, particularly Dark Elves. It galled him he could do no serious damage to this one. There were other bodies strung up on the far walls showed far more injury, but they were thankfully dead and unmoving. Even mangled as they were, Saber noted some were Ashlanders, others were Bosmer or Altmer. They were most likely explorers in the area that had fallen victim to Kogoruhn's new inhabitants. They, like him, had warranted Valos' intense hatred simply by being elven.

Apparently left to his own devices for too long, Valos was discovered torturing prisoners by his superiors. The Legion considered him unhinged, and dismissed him to his disgrace. Now he took the matter personally, and every elf he saw was reason for his contempt. At the time of discovery, he was torturing a Dark Elf, so Dunmer in particular he detested.

The Imperial stepped up to his current victim, glaring white hate. Blue eyes were soulless, the finely boned face taut in seething hatred. "I spent ten glorious years serving the Emperor…that is, before I was sent to this gods forsaken rat hole." He reached up, gripped Saber by the throat, and cut off his breath. The Dunmer struggled against the constriction, feeling as though his lungs would burst. "And you want to know why?"

Saber thrashed in futility, feeling his lungs burn for air, and the hold threatened to break his neck. His body bucked against the chains, shuddering within the fierce grip before the grip released suddenly. Gulping air, Saber could barely hear his incensed words.

"I was dismissed because of a worthless dark elf!" He sneered, lifting his hand once again to punch his chained quarry.

Saber reeled, coughing on blood that filled his mouth. The man was furious, driving that hate with every blow he struck. "Oblivion take you all!" He was shouting now, the voice bouncing wildly against the stone walls. Saber hoped he'd at least hit hard enough to knock him out.

As suddenly as he raged, Valos went as calm before a storm. He clenched bloodied fists while taking in a long, deep breath. "It would seem my superiors couldn't appreciate my …_skills_ in drawing information. You see, one of my duties was to question criminals." His voice grew unnervingly calm in light of his previous rage. "I had a flair for magick and alchemy, so mixing the two proved to be quite…_effective_."

He moved towards a far table where bottles sat in a line consisting of various contents. Some liquids Saber already knew were healing potions. A victim beaten senseless, would be then healed to undergo the process all over again. When Valos brought an unknown flask, the Dunmer drew back.

"Open your mouth." The Imperial hissed. As Saber hesitated, the tone grew thick and menacing. "Or I will break your jaw and pour it down your throat."

As Saber tentatively did as ordered, the contents splashed back his throat. An acrid bitter taste filled his senses, soon followed by an odd sensation enveloping his body. Skin grew sensitive, senses heightened.

"You see my skill is knowing where the prisoner's greatest weakness lay." Valos explained with satisfaction. "Dunmer you see have very high resistance to fire." He proffered the empty flask. "Given a potion that lowers that resistance, and the prisoner learns a new form of severe pain."

Saber felt his skin was alive with sensitivity to touch. He realized in horror what Valos intended, as the soulless gaze glided to the firebrands in the brazier. The ends were red hot and carrying the scent of smelt. Bile rose in his throat.

Valos took note of the prisoner's reaction and grinned. "For Argonians, I'd affect their natural resistances to poison and disease. For snooty High Elves, I'd affect the resistances to magick." His gaze wandered to the body of Fargoth. "Bosmer are a bit tricky, being they have no real resistances other than disease. But as you can see, I can be very creative."

Saber shuddered, feeling terribly sick.

"Don't worry," Valos assured him, fingering several of the branding irons. "Nekros said no _permanent_ damage."

"Valos-" A familiar and ragged voice interrupted them, and Saber nearly strangled on relief. He saw Nekros stroll in the room, clearly pleased by what he found of Valos' work. The corners of his mouth curled into a pleasant smile as if viewing works of art. "I see you've been enjoying yourself."

Saber hung his head, hoping and praying that this would end soon. He wasn't sure if he was ready to submit, however, but he was more than ready to die.

The Butcher stiffened, annoyed at the interruption. "He's nowhere near ready to yield, my lord."

Nekros stepped forward, again too close for Saber's taste. The vampire's eyes dilated with the heady scent of blood in the air, and his throat worked at seeing the bleeding wounds. Mustering control, he simply smiled amiably. "For now I am content with his punishment." He said, "Bring a vial of healing for him. Perhaps a few words among old friends might convince him, if pain isn't enough."

The Dunmer gritted teeth as Valos lowered him to the floor, leaving him like a broken puppet on the stone. Weak and shaking, even the weight of the chains was almost too much. He knew there wasn't much hope of attacking anyone in his condition. All he had were words now. "Friends eh?" he grunted as shoulders hurt in an attempt of moving upright. "Are you losing your touch, Nekros? Having others do your dirty work now?"

The vampire couldn't help but become distracted by the bleeding, or what he considered the Dunmer as groveling. Again, he controlled himself, letting Valos provide a healing potion before continuing. "Valos is an expert in his profession. He excels my own skills when it comes to causing pain. Who better to administer punishment?" He said, and then crouched closer the kneeling elf. "But you assume this is all about revenge, and I assure you revenge is only a small part. You must bear in mind, I had ten years to hate what you did to me."

Saber felt the vampire's hand snap out to grab him by a fistful of hair and force his head back, demanding him to look at the wound to the vampire's throat. The man was still angry, one might say even livid, yet the tone remained neutral.

"The poison, you see, had done the damage." The vampire explained coldly. "It incapacitated me enough for you to attack, otherwise I would've simply ripped your throat out to heal this injury. Too weakened however, leaving me helpless as you dragged me to the river, and dumped me there."

Saber thought he saw something close to emotional pain in the creature's eyes now. Did Nekros feel betrayed perhaps? Was he insulted he was thrown into the river like refuse? "You were found…" Saber remembered, the city guards nearly rejoicing upon finding the body two days later.

"The damage was rather extensive." Nekros seethed now. "It took me years to become a hunter again."

"Feeding on rats?" Saber tried to imagine the vampire struggling to survive on whatever he could. The 'rats' reference hit too close to the truth, apparently. He saw the insane anger sparkle in the vampire's face, almost like a flush as the teeth bared menacingly. There was some satisfaction of pushing Nekros to lose his temper. Maybe he'd kill him outright now. Unfortunately, Nekros merely bristled at the words, dropping Saber back to the floor.

"I must admit, I don't like the cocky attitude you've developed." The vampire commented. "Is that what Master Kendari taught you?"

"Nope." Saber forced a smile he didn't feel as he looked up at his old master. "That just came naturally."

Yellow eyes narrowed dangerously. "Well, let's discuss something closer to home, shall we?" He drew out something from his pocket, to let it drop from a length of gold chain. A bauble sparkled in the torchlight, spinning brightly before his face. Saber blinked, taking several moments to recognize the locket he'd given Lyra years ago.

_Lyra-!_

He looked up to find the vampire calmed and pleased by his reaction. "Didn't Master Kendari tell you?" He asked, crouching again to face him closer. He swung the locket enticingly before him. "The Blue Lady was engulfed in flames not long ago. Arson, I believe, was the cause."

Saber felt his chest seize, his head began to shake in denial. "No… You're lying."

"The windows, unfortunately, had been nailed shut." The vampire continued relentlessly, "And the doors had been sealed by bars across the latches." His face twisted into pretended sorrow. "I'm afraid the girls didn't make it. Not one of them." He dangled the locket once again before his face. "I thought you might want this as a keepsake." It dropped to the floor in front of him.

Saber stared at the golden necklace numb with shock. _No, not Lyra…not the girls._ "You're lying." He whispered, gently taking the token to open the oval casing. Within was the etched writing _"Always carry my heart"._ _She can't be gone! Merthisan would've said something…?_

"Am I?" Nekros asked him, moving to his feet. "We'll ask Master Kendari then." He motioned towards some guards at the door, as they brought Merthisan and Eiryn into the room. Disheveled, covered in dust, hands bound behind them. Cloth gags covered mouths leaving only muffled sounds of protest from both. Wide eyed and visibly confused, Saber could only watch in horror as their captors forced both to kneel inside the room.

"No!" Saber tried to get to his feet but chains and weakness prevented him, forcing him back to his knees.

"Valos…" Nekros spoke softer now. He strode close to Eiryn to touch her cheek lightly. She jerked back, making a frightened sound in her throat. "You never mentioned how lovely the woman was."

"My apologies, my lord." Valos smiled back. "I believe Fargoth failed to mention this to me, otherwise I would have made plans to handle her more…delicately."

Eiryn's unbound hair partially obscured her face yet hid nothing of her fear. The green eyes were wide and looking about the room at the torturous devices. He heard the whimper come from her as she saw what remained of Fargoth on the wall.

"Eiryn…" He said, suddenly unable to find the words- He focused on Nekros. "Nekros…please-"

"Please?" The vampire's damaged voice was incredulous. "_Please?_ I don't believe I ever heard that word come out of your mouth."

"Don't…"

"Don't what?" The creature snapped in sudden anger, standing too close to Eiryn now as he stroked her cheek tenderly with fingers. "Hurt her? Is that what you're going to ask me?" She visibly trembled, looking back at Saber with pleading eyes.

"Don't! Please. I'll join you." Saber blurted out. "I'll do whatever you want!" _I'll do anything rather than his harming them!_

"Join me? Is it so easy to just change allegiance?" Disappointment was thick in his tone. "Perhaps you've forgotten that last lesson I tried to teach you. Do you remember?"

Saber felt overwhelmed with helplessness. He rode the wave of memories so long ago. Nekros had captured Lyra, had meant to kill her before him in order to teach him a lesson about the dangers of relationships. They are a hindrance, not a boon. Such emotional ties would only serve to be impediment. Surely, if he had no connections to Lyra or Master Kendari, then Nekros could hardly use them against the young elf!

The assassin had preached a solitary life. _"No connection to friends or family is our protection. Anonymity is our shelter." _He'd often tell his young apprentice. _"No one to betray you, and no one to be used against you."_

Nekros was like stone, eyes unblinking and unmoving. He barely moved when Eiryn made a pathetic whimper as he took hold of her hair to draw her head back. He never took his gaze off his wayward apprentice as his hand flashed quickly and with determination. The knife flashed, and with a flick of his wrist, caused Eiryn to slump forward. Blood pooled around her head, and Saber could only stare in frozen despair. Nekros killed her with the same method as killing Nekros. Revenge was final.

"No!" A scream finally tore from his throat as he fought against his restraints. Chains rattled but held firm, as he had to watch in added horror to Nekros moving towards Merthisan. "Please…! Anything! I will do anything!"

He screamed, protested, writhed in anguish against Nekros' evil, but all the while knowing there was nothing that would change the inevitable. Nekros had always been cruel and calculating. This was their sole purpose for being here, to die in front of his eyes.

Merthisan struggled, trying to get to his feet as Nekros descending upon him. Again the dagger flashed, catching the swordmaster in the chest. Breath and life dissipated in a low groan before he also fell on the cold floor. Their bodies were motionless, and all Saber could think of _No, this isn't happening. They can't be gone!_

Nekros turned his attention to Saber who continued to stare at the bodies of his friends…of Eiryn with hair splayed amid a pool of blood. Merthisan's eyes stared back a glassy blue.

"I'm all you have left, Feryl." The vampire murmured softly. Something was different in the tone now, gentle yet urging. Vaguely Saber sensed Nekros using some form of magick on him. "You have nothing to live for now, and everything to die for."

Saber felt the hot tears stream down his face, yet too paralyzed from shock to cry out loud. Walking closer, Nekros crouched beside him, gently pushing a strand of hair from his sweat-covered brow. "I can take all the pain away, Feryl." He spoke tenderly, "I can free you from your mortality, and give you powers beyond your wildest dreams! You cannot imagine the gift I'm offering you."

A flicker of his red eyes brought life back to the Dunmer. He seemed to be listening, at least no longer staring at the remains of his friends.

"I know I seemed cruel…" He continued, "But everything I did was to mold you into a man. You were lost and alone on the streets of the Imperial City, starving in fact. I took you in…gave you a home." He paused, gauging the effect of his words. Saber was motionless. "I trained you, taught you everything I know. Even your murdering me, I am willing to forgive."

Saber swayed, too lost in grief and loss to feel any anger. _Eiryn…gone. Merthisan….Lyra… Everyone I ever loved… _Shuttinghis eyes, he couldn't bear to see their lifeless bodies on the floor. Nekros' voice was only a whisper, but something in the jagged tone was alluring, tugging at his senses.

"I promise…you won't feel any more pain, Feryl." The vampire was telling him. A cold hand brushed aside hair to expose his neck, leaving Saber to shiver slightly. The touch of the vampire's hand on his nape was oddly comforting, promising to end the grief he felt engulfing him now. "I'm all that you have left. Join me, and you'll never have want for anything."

Dazed, Saber felt that something had died within him. He'd never be free, and even if Nekros didn't claim him, the Tamriel Emperor would. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head slightly exposing his throat and waited.

Nekros hand tightened, and lips drew very close to skin. "Tell me what you want, Feryl." He growled softly.

_Just get it over with!_ "To join you." He whispered. "Take my pain…"

The bite was nothing more than a sharp prick before another sensation began to flood his senses. Saber gasped, instinctively trying to pull away once Nekros began to drink his blood. His grip was like iron, and the chains pulled taut keeping his hands low to the floor. An arm snaked around his shoulders to hold him tightly, as his mouth latched onto the soft tissue of his throat. His body thrashed, unable to break free from the vice-like grip of the vampire. Saber could hear his heart thundering his chest, his panicked gasps gradually slowing to low inaudible breath.

He could hear the vampire swallowing, but also felt Nekros' touch soften as his body weakened. Sensing his victim's declining strength, the grip loosened to being almost tender. "No, don't." Why is my voice like a whisper? Saber didn't want gentle touches from this monster. He could take anything but this mockery of compassion.

Nekros drew back, cradling Saber now in his arms. Fingernails scraped over his forehead as the vampire brushed hair aside. "Shhh….its almost over." He murmured with his thick voice.

Saber felt something touch his lips, realizing he must now drink the blood of a vampire. Without thought, he refused, disgust and rising fear preventing him to accept.

"Drink." The command compelled him to so do, and Saber tasted the thick warmth of Nekros' blood fill his mouth. His throat worked as several mouthfuls were swallowed and darkness began to enfold around his consciousness. "Now sleep…"

The world faded and Saber was lost into the darkness.

xxxxxxx

Valos the Butcher couldn't help but feel disgust upon watching the embracing of the Dunmer wretch. The scene was almost what one might consider erotic if not for the fear and blood that went with it. He'd watched the others as they accepted the embrace, and the vampire had not shown as much tenderness as he did for this one. There was no doubt, somewhere in that black heart of his, the vampire had some sort of fixation with the Dunmer.

Moreover, for all his spouting about choice, Nekros still relied on a command spell to change his allegiance. The Imperial took small satisfaction in that. For all the vampire's desire for having the elf come willingly, he still resorted to backhanded tricks didn't he? Even his lies were convincing!

Eying the corpses that now stained his floor, Valos motioned to two of his henchmen to remove the bodies. No longer holding the appearances of Feryl's beloved friends, the male was now nothing but a portly merchant, while the woman was his homely daughter. They had the misfortune of encountering Valos' men on the roads outside of Maar Gan. With no further word about the Breton woman and swordmaster, Nekros no longer wished to wait. Their deaths were to be Feryl's undoing. The art of illusion Nekros mastered was impressive. How else could he survive amid mortals for so long without exposed as a bloodsucking leech?

The vampire continued to hold the unconscious elf for too long before finally placing him gently to the floor. "Clean him up and put him in the cage for now. I want to be certain he's transformed before unchaining him."

"You do not trust him then?" Valos asked innocently, trying without much success to hide the smirk.

"I trust no one." Nekros told him flatly. The gleaming eyes now watched his Butcher with interest. "I underestimated him once before. We won't do so again."

"And how will you explain his friends still among the living?" Valos wondered out loud.

"By the time he finds out, he will no longer care." The vampire insisted. "In fact, his beloved Eiryn Acques and Master Kendari will be nothing but tasty meals to him then. Delicious is it not?"

Valos had to admit, there was something very intriguing how he contrived revenge.


	30. Ch 30 Revelations

Ch 30 Revelations

Eiryn dabbed some of the healing salve against Merthisan's shoulder before moving on to the bandaging their wounds. She'd used more of her mana for healing the more serious of their injuries, but the nicks and cuts they both received in the battle would be sore and possibly infectious if she didn't care for them. Her thoughts continued to wander as to why so many of these kill-for-hires had been so intent on their capture.

The swordmaster couldn't get answers either, as the remaining mercenaries preferred to run like cowards when they realized their numbers began to dwindle. Now all was left to them was an odd sense that there was even more trouble ahead.

They'd continue to Caldera and find a room at the inn there. Enough Imperial soldiers remained stationed in the town to provide some security. They'd also have to resupply, and use the mage's guild to reach Ald Ruhn. From there, they would have to follow the usual route to the Ashlander camp. Somehow this attack must be linked to Saber, and if that were the case, they'd he'd be in as much trouble as they. Eiryn pushed aside any thoughts that something might have already happened to him. _I shouldn't worry, he can take care of himself…_

Merthisan winced as she tightened the bandages around his upper arm, then his mouth softened into a smile. "You are a natural healer." He murmured.

Now self-conscious, she shrugged his words off, glad for the distraction. "I have that tender touch." She smiled, fastening the end of the bandages to remain snug against his wound. "Are you ready for travel?"

Despite the bone-weary tiredness, they had little choice but to continue. They already lost considerable time as it was. This time, they'd stay off the road in case other mercenaries were about. They'd also have to make precautions to avoid capture. Perhaps some scrolls of Intervention for Merthisan would be in order. Such magicks could send a person miles to safety if trouble arose.

Eiryn touched the tiny opal ring on her right hand and she remembered Saber giving her the tiny bauble. The smooth stone tingled with the innate magic of teleportation, but it's meaning went deeper than that. Saber had wanted her safe. _He didn't have to give this to me._ She thought. The ring of recall could have brought him some gold. His last remarks, however, still stung at her heart. Merthisan insisted he was simply scared and on edge. For her, his words sending her back to Balmora wrenched what trust she had of him.

Perhaps Merthisan was right about his short temper and quick words. Would he admit he'd made a mistake in sending her away? Deep in her heart, she truly hoped so.

Taking the lead, Eiryn guided the swordmaster to the city of Caldera to head back to the Ashlander camp and find Saber.

"Feryl…" Nekros' voice was a hoarse whisper with his attempt to sound gentle. Saber stirred from sleep, feeling cold and weak as a baby. However, memories of the vampire's bite brought him to quick alertness, forcing him back from a fitful sleep into the dark dungeon of Valos' lair.

Nekros knelt over him in the tiny cage they set aside for his capture. There was barely room to stretch out, with heavy manacles on his wrists preventing him from any attempt at escape. _I suppose I should feel complimented they think I could_, Saber thought darkly. He eyed his nemesis with renewed hate and only now realized Nekros had manipulated him. _How else could I have let him-?_ Revulsion washed over him, and the Dunmer looked away, fending off feelings of shame and embarrassment of letting that _thing_ feed on him. Nekros must have learned a great deal of magick in the years since they knew each other.

Yellow glowing eyes stared back at him, recognizing the usual rebellious nature of his prior apprentice. "Ah, you're still in the land of the living." He smiled, baring teeth.

Saber shifted his position so he could sit against the bars of the cage. Even that little motion left him panting for breath. Shivering from the damp cold, he pressed as far back as the cage would allow away from his old master. "How long have I been here?" He asked.

"You came here four days ago. Here-" Nekros offered a cup filled with broth by the smell. "You need to keep up your strength."

_Only four days?_ Saber wanted to refuse the broth, to continue the pathetic insurgence but what did it all matter now? _My friends gone, and Eiryn_… Grief nearly overwhelmed him once more, and he took offered cup.

"You promised me to take my pain." He said, forcing himself to drink the thick broth. No doubt, the soup was to strengthen his blood.

Nekros nodded slowly, watching as if studying him. "Three days." He told him, "The change takes three days before you transform into one of us. After that, you won't care about the death of your friends." He then added as he watched the elf's expression. "Another day, Feryl. I embraced you almost two days ago.

Saber was acutely aware of the vampire's scrutiny, and tried to ignore him. Handing back the empty cup, he folded arms around himself to try to stay warm. Even that made him self-conscious as Nekros tilted his head and his gaze flittered over him.

"You're cold?"

Saber nearly cringed. "A blanket would be nice."

"How thoughtless of me." Nekros commented, turning slightly to where one of his 'children' stood guard near the far side of the expansive room. He motioned to bring the items he carried. The other vampire was a young Breton male, with a shag of hair that fell over his eyes glowing back the same eerie yellow as his master's. Nekros treated him as he would a loyal dog, waving his hand to dismiss him.

The items were Saber's cloak, boots, and trousers, with all his weapons and tools of his trade taken. "You've developed quite a taste for style." Nekros commented, shaking out the black silk pants. "I'm impressed."

The Dunmer scowled, seeing how Nekros had done the same. Where once the man had appeared as some vagabond, now he looked almost courtly in his velvets and leathers. "Am I to dress?"

"Much as I appreciate you as you are," Nekros chuckled, pointedly leering. "I fear the cold is a bit much for your thinned blood."

Saber eyed the pile of clothes. "And my weapons?"

To this, Nekros coughed a laugh. "Nice try, Feryl. I'm afraid you cannot be trusted just yet." He folded arms across his chest to lean against a pillar, watching him dress in quiet admiration. "I see you kept the Manos blade."

Gritting teeth in disgust, Saber felt skin grow hot from the intense stare. The sword, his daggers, and everything else he'd collected into his arsenal of weapons over the years were nowhere in sight. No doubt, Nekros had them locked away for safekeeping. Yanking on trousers, he nearly fumbled from overall weakness and wondered if he had the strength to escape even if the opportunity presented itself.

Saber remembered the sword being the only weapon he was to steal that fateful night so long ago, a blade Nekros had wanted for some reason. "You never told me why you wanted the Manos blade so badly." He commented to fill the silence, wrapping in his cloak to try to keep the chill at bay. Just getting dressed left him feeling exhausted.

Nekros continued to stare, his expression an odd contemplative look. "Its highly enchantable, made by one of the best sword smiths in Tamriel." He explained. "I'm curious to why you've kept it after all this time."

The Dunmer frowned, "Why wouldn't I?" He realized that somehow the vampire considered he might have kept the sword out of sentimental value to _him_! Saber nearly laughed. "If you must know, I had tried to return the sword to master Kendari."

Nekros' brows rose up in surprise. "But he did not accept?"

"He let me keep it, even provided me training." It was Saber's turn to gauge his enemy's reaction and was surprised to see the vampire did not like his answer. "Merthisan became a father to me…that I never had." He added out of malice.

Much to his satisfaction, the words obviously stung. Nekros had mentioned that he considered _himself_ a father to young Feryl. The eyes narrowed, the lips thinned into a grim line.

"But Master Kendari is dead now." Nekros replied, matching his spite. "As well as your woman."

Saber deflated at the harsh reminder, turning away to hide the sudden tears that threatened to fall. He couldn't speak for fear of the sob caught in his throat might escape. _I can't believe Merthisan is gone…_ Memories of Eiryn also engulfed him in ragged grief.

The vampire however, could tell the words struck a cord. He moved closer, crouched near the bars of the cage. Even though the door of the prison was open, he was obviously confidant Saber was remaining where he was. "And did you shed any tears after _my_ death? Any pangs of guilt or remorse for me?"

_Narcissistic bastard_, Saber stared back at him in surprise. Nekros had asked him before, and only now did the thought occur to the Dunmer that Nekros' purpose of having him here was for answers. No, perhaps not entirely, but obviously the jagged wound at his throat was a constant reminder of a betrayal the vampire hadn't quite coped with.

Saber opened his mouth to throw an insult, but something in Nekros' yellow eyes caused him to pause. The man wanted to know, _needed_ to know, what prompted Feryl to murder him. What's more, Nekros wanted to know how he reacted after he was gone. _But why should any of that matter after all this time?_

Memories of standing on the docks after he killed Nekros returned. Feryl was only twelve…or so. He didn't know his exact age. Even then, he felt Nekros had taken his childhood from him, and in its place, he lived a cold and meaningless life with very high expectations with training. Mistakes were punishable, and successes rarely praised. Nights were spent in vigorous training, of memorizing poisons, anatomy, of reciting methods of quick or lingering deaths.

Oddly enough, despite the finality of Nekros death, or what he thought was finality at the time, Feryl didn't feel repletion. He felt empty. He stood on the docks at the dead of night, watching the body of his master sink into the darkness, and. curiously. felt tears streaming down his cheeks. Feryl hadn't known why he was crying, why he felt so alone. Nekros had been cruel and nearly killed his only friend in the world. Why would he mourn the loss of such a creature?

Saber wasn't sure if he wanted to give Nekros his answer. Why should I give him any solace whatsoever? He looked back at the vampire, waiting. All this time, Nekros had wondered why his apprentice had murdered him. Strange that after all his cruelty Nekros would have to wonder the cause. Still, Saber thought to himself, now perhaps was the time for answers for them both.

"Tell me this first-" He finally replied, "Did you kill my parents?" At least he'd get an answer after all these years.

Nekros' brows shot up. The question obviously took him off guard, almost like a physical blow. "Did I kill your parents? All these years, and you think _I_ was the one that killed your parents?" The words were thick with surprise. The corners of his eyes softened, the body relaxed. "No, Feryl. I did not kill your parents. You were a street waif, as I've told you often. A small elfling lost on the streets."

_He could be lying_, Saber considered, _but at least I had the chance to ask._ Now I suppose I should give him something back. "If you must know, I cried after I dumped you into the river." The words fell flat, almost meaningless in Saber's estimation. "I was only a child after all-"

He wanted to make less of his tears, to give Nekros less of what he asked for. Instead, the vampire stood up and turned slightly as he considered his words. Several emotions passed over his pale face, the yellow eyes darting back to the imprisoned elf to anything else in the room. After several long moments, he seemed to decide something.

"I was wrong, Feryl." He said in that broken voice. Fists clenched and his body was tense, as if fighting an inward battle. "My…attempt at making you …tough and strong-" He sighed, turning away as he sought the words. "I was perhaps too harsh with my methods. Now that I see what manner of man you've become in spite of it all-" He swallowed again, unable to look at him. "I can see that I was too ….brutal in my methods. If I had given you something…more of …tenderness, perhaps you would've stayed with me."

A breeze could've knocked Saber over as he stared gaping at the vampire. Nekros still didn't look him in the eye. "I've had many years to consider what you did to me. You should know I was not a vampire for very long." Now he did look at his prisoner. The mouth twitched before speaking again. "I had only just turned before I found you. I knew then my life was going to be a solitary one, and you were…a promise of never being alone." He turned slightly, looking at a far wall. "I couldn't believe my luck in finding you; a starving Dark Elf child, already learning how to steal and survive on the streets! Who was I to question my good fortune?"

Saber never remembered that time of his life; only faded shades of fear prevented him from wondering further. He knew if he searched further inside himself, he'd only find terror, and avoided that as best he could.

"I wanted you trained as I would have it, to grow you into exactly what I wanted. You showed such promise, such a fast learner. Everything I taught, you absorbed like a sponge." A smile crept onto his mouth now. "I wanted to be everything to you. You'd never know anything else."

Saber huddled in his cage, unbelieving this was the same Nekros that had beaten him as a child. "You must have known eventually I'd know the truth." He said.

"True." Nekros nodded. "But not until you were…converted by my teachings. The world you'd see would be through my eyes."

Frowning, the Dunmer shook his head. "But I did learn the truth-"

"Truth is relative, Feryl." Nekros told him, lifting a finger for emphasis. "That night, after you took the Manos blade and told me master Kendari had seen you-" After he beat Feryl so severely he'd broken ribs and his hand-. "Kendari arrived and decided to rescue you. I suppose I had something of an epiphany. I wondered how you'd fare in _his_ world for a time, and would my teachings remain prevalent. Would you still be the obedient apprentice after a short time with others? I had to know."

"I must have been a disappointment to you." Saber sneered, remembering that it took only a day to convince him he no longer wanted to be with Nekros.

The vampire looked away again, remembering that time. "Yes, well…I was disheartened." He sighed. "I suppose I was no judge of humanity of which I no longer had. I also had no prior experience with raising a child, only what I've learned from my own father." A smile curled the corners of his mouth. "Every parent is bound to make mistakes."

Saber snorted in contempt. He still couldn't believe this creature considered himself a father figure. Somehow, he couldn't reconcile Nekros as being anything but a cruel monster who relished pain in others, and thought only of himself. "I still don't want to join you." He spat, uncaring if the vampire would kill him now.

"I know." Came the soft reply. "I never thought you'd come willingly, even with the death of your dear friends."

"So you coerced me with magic?" Anger now sparked.

The vampire shrugged. "Revenge is best served cold, I believe the old saying states. And frankly, I couldn't help myself." The smile widened enough to show the elongated fangs. "How thrilling to hear you ask that of me. Though I must admit, eventually I'd take you by force if need be. Either way, I'd win."

"And what of my changing?" Saber challenged him. "And your promise-?"

Nekros lifted a hand to silence him. The fingernails were almost claw-like with their length and how they curved at the tips. "Trust me, Feryl. Once you feel the desire to feed, once you transform into one of us, you won't feel anything remotely to anguish, or pain, or anything that makes you mortal. Your humanity will be lost. No longer will you be Feryl, but a child of the night."

_A child of the night…?_ Saber grimaced, knowing he had every intention of seeing another sunrise if only to end his miserable life completely. He could only hope he had the desire to end it after he changed. Without thinking, his tongue ran along the edge of a tooth, and found no change whatsoever. What would it be like to become one of the undead?

Nekros had moved towards him, knelt close beside him in the tiny cage. "You will remember master Kendari, your Lyra, and that lovely young scout, but you'll come to find, they are only mortal after all." His voice softened as much as the damaged tone could. "And beneath us."

Saber couldn't help but cringe this time when Nekros trailed one of his claw like fingernails across his brow. Closing his eyes, the Dunmer could practically feel the vampire's want to feed again.

"Once embraced, things will be different." The ragged voice practically purred, or rather growled. "You'll see."

Saber tensed when Nekros enveloped him to cradle his body next to his own. Breath quickened as fear mounted, knowing what was to come. He knew what to expect, and knew the quick bite would hardly be painful, but something in the close vicinity of the vampire frightened him. His instinct screamed to fight back, to try to escape. Too weakened, all Saber could do is clench fists and pray that the feeding would end soon.

Nekros laughed a menacing chuckle as he bit him, then almost gently began to lap up the blood. "Relax boy, and enjoy your last days of mortality." He murmured.

The vampire didn't see the tear trickle down the corner of his eye.


	31. Ch 31 Out of the Darkness

Chapter 31

"He's not back yet." Nibani said, red eyes shifting away and back as she revealed her own concern for the missing thief. She welcomed Eiryn and Merthisan into her yurt for tea as well as conversation. After the unexpected warm welcome, they all sat cross-legged on rugs to share their concern. "Four days is a long time, and I fear something has happened to him. Kogoruhn is not for the feint of heart."

Eiryn frowned, fending off her own growing worries. "I know Saber is to undergo this quest alone, to prove himself-"

Nibani lifted her hand, knowing exactly the younger woman's thoughts. "Go. Find him. But he must return with the proofs to finish the Warrior's Test." She reached out to clasp Eiryn by the shoulder before she could turn away. "Remember there are Corprus beasts there. Kogoruhn is a place even our bravest warriors fear to tread."

"I'll need supplies." Eiryn replied grimly. "Arrows, healing potions…anything you can spare. I have gold to pay for it-"

"I'll need some things too." Merthisan spoke up behind her, and when the women looked back at him, he gave a broad grin. "What? Did you think I'd let the lass go by herself and take all the fun?"

…………………

_A gentle breeze rustled hair across his face as Saber blinked against the bright sunlight. As eyes adjusted, he found himself lying atop a verdant hillside overlooking an open sea of grassland. Waves of green hurt his eyes as the blue sky hung overhead with puffy clouds drifting on a warm breeze._

_Am I dead or is this just a dream? His last memories were the repeated feedings Nekros had taken, leaving him near death for days. How long had he laid in the dark, and am I now dead?_

"_Feryl." A voice spoke softly, almost as if the one surrounded yet also heard inside of him. Saber looked around, finding an Ashlander warrior standing not far, with gentle eyes of deep red and hair the color of midnight. Bright strips of red cloth wove in several braids matching the bright colors of his clothes. Arms cradled a Chitin bow as he patiently waited. _

_Enril…_

_The warrior nodded, tilting the head slightly out of recognition. Saber had no idea what Enril had looked like in life, yet somehow he knew this was his ancestral spirit. Now he stood before him, appearing as if in the flesh. The high arched brows hung over eyes masked in paint._

"_Am I dead?" Saber dared asked._

"_Not yet." Enril replied gently. Saber felt calmed by the voice, as if familiar, and reassured now he was not alone. He got to his feet, staring out to the expanse of land beyond the ancestral ghost. _

"_What is this place?"_

_The warrior stretched his hand out, "Memories. This is the Ashlands as it was before Dagoth Ur, before the Ashstorms."_

_Enril's memories, not mine. _

_Stunned at the dramatic green now before him, Saber tried not to blink for fear of waking up. Far off one could see Guar herds milling about grazing on the thick vegetation, while cliffracers hung lazily in the sky. Trees dotted the landscape, interrupting the endless sea of grass. _

_All the thief knew of the Ashland region was that it was a dead wasteland. How could things change so much..? Ah yes, Dagoth. He infected the land with Blight and ashstorms._

"_Why am I here?" Saber asked him. He didn't have to ask that he knew the warrior had everything to do with bringing him to this place. In fact, Saber already knew the answer. Enril wanted to show him what the Ashlands were before Dagoth Ur, to show him what the land could be once again…_

_Enril lowered his chin. "To provide you some respite." He told him gently. "And to give you words of encouragement. Your Journey has only begun."_

"_Begun?" Saber almost laughed at the audacity. He sensed days had passed after Nekros had bitten him. When he awoke, he'd have a bloodlust and an eternity of feeding on others. "I would say my Journey has ended."_

"_You're not dead yet."_

"_Not yet, and what have I to live for?" Saber shot back. Memories of Eiryn and Merthisan's death brought rage and sorrow. "Am I to endure time without end as one of the undead…alone?"_

_Enril knew the younger Dunmer intended to walk into the morning sun once his change had completed. He sensed the ache of grief the young elf carried now, but also knew the truth of Nekros trickery. He had little time now in keeping Saber in this place- "Neither Blight nor Age can harm him." _

"_Meaning?"_

"_Vampirism is a disease, Feryl. You will not change."_

_Stunned, Saber immediately remembered what the wizard Divayth Fyr had told him. No disease or sickness would affect him. He'd never get sick, not even a common cold _

"_How-?" He shut his mouth again, again already knowing the answer to his question. Of course, vampirism was an infection, a blood disease. Being he would never get sick, he'd not change. Saber fought the growing despair well up inside. No escape from my torment? "I have nothing left to live for, Enril."_

"_You have more than you can possibly imagine, Feryl. Now wake. They are coming for you-"_

Who-?

………

Valos discovered Nekros had fed for the third time on the Dunmer, who now lay unconscious in his cage. The elf was bundled in his cloak, with arms folded near his chin as he curled up against the back of the cage's wall. Frowning, the Imperial didn't like how things were sorting out. Nekros was losing his sense of reason with this elf, even to the point of nearly killing him in the process of trying to change him.

If he cared so much for this wretch, why did he persist in draining him to the point of death? Valos knelt beside the Dunmer if only to check for a pulse. Three days had nearly passed. He should change soon if he didn't already show symptoms. _Strange, that Nekros left him here rather than place him in one of the coffins in the lower levels._

The Butcher scowled, finding the elf still alive…though barely. Stranger still was the body remained chilled but not cold. The others had gone through a dying process, literally having no more breath, pulse, or warmth left to them. This one seemed to hang onto the last breath of life to the very end. Then again, Valos thought darkly, the Dunmer seemed to resist the thrall of Nekros up to this point. The others had fallen into some form of servility once bitten. This one continued to resist.

_Strange, very strange indeed._

Valos cautiously leaned over the unmoving Dunmer, lifted the lip to better view his teeth, and found no change. Brows pinched into a tighter frown. Pulling back an eyelid also revealed the same deep burgundy hue as he had before. By now, the color should have changed to yellow or something other than this color. Even the pupils were unaffected.

Valos had cast spells to make him more acceptable to the Embrace. Not that he could ever tell a vampire this; but their 'condition' was nothing more than a blood disease. A simple cantrip to lower one's resistance to disease often assured the victim's embrace. So far, they had no problems with the others. They embraced easily within the three days. Ironically, a simple _heal common illness_ spell was cast within the first three days of transformation; one could literally deter the onset of changing into a vampire. This one, however, had no means, let alone the strength to have such magicks. How is he was not altering in any way?

Footsteps sounded from behind him, and Valos found the regal vampire entering the dungeon once more. Changed into another outfit of velvets and silks, the vampire looked as if he belonged mixing with the Great Houses rather than plotting his plans in the darkness of this pit in the middle of nowhere. The finery of his clothes were made darker in the torchlight, making the reds and blacks appear more subdued.

"He's not changed, my lord." Valos told him. Nekros stiffened immediately. This was a good thing, the Butcher considered, at least now, perhaps he'd consider getting rid of this elf and they can move on to more rewarding challenges. Valos had joined in this questionable alliance for riches and power. Wasting time on this Dunmer was an unwelcome deviance from their coarse.

Teeth bared in a snarl. "What do you mean, not changed?" He growled.

Valos backed out of the cage upon his approach for fear of being caught in the confines of the cage with an enraged vampire. "I don't understand it, my lord…"

Apparently, neither did Nekros as he knelt over the still form and checked for himself. "Impossible…" He whispered. "How does he do this?"

_Interesting that Nekros thinks his Dunmer has such powers_, Valos thought darkly. "So now what shall we do with him?"

Nekros was staring intently on Feryl's still form, lost in thought before he finally answered in a low voice. "I shall keep him as a thrall…" he replied. "If he doesn't change, than he shall be cattle."

The Butcher chewed on a lower lip. _Doesn't he notice that the elf resisted such mind control as well? Could Nekros be that blind-? _"And if he doesn't-"

The vampire moved with all the speed of a viper. With a swiftness and strength that Valos barely had time to register before finding himself in a firm grip lifting him off his feet to leave him daggling in the air. Valos gasped and choked, stunned that Nekros could move so fast and hold him with so little effort. Fangs drew menacingly close to his throat.

"If he doesn't, than Feryl is mine to deal with!" Nekros snarled. "Is that understood?"

"Y-yes, my lord. Of course!" Valos dropped to the floor to rub his bruised neck, coughing against the pain left by the sudden, and to his estimation, unprovoked attack. "I was merely-"

"I know what you're up to, Valos. Do not play me for a fool." The creature hissed. The yellow eyes glared unblinking. "Consider your own usefulness to me and my clan before questioning my motives."

Valos found himself tossed back to the floor like refuse as Nekros strode out of the dungeon. The Imperial glared, rubbing his bruised throat as he continued to think dark thoughts. Does Nekros think he is not vulnerable? Even if Feryl is not the threat, I am!

How easy would it be to stake that madman in the heart as he slept through the daylight hours? I could kill his entire clan without breaking a sweat! I have the means to kill these horrid creatures, and take their riches for my own. The Butcher's gaze settled back down on the unconscious elf, hating him all the more for causing him grief. Useless elves! And to think Nekros would elevate this one to join his clan, even above me?

Hate turned to seething rage as Valos moved closer. I should kill him, for Nekros' own good as well as my own. Dawn was arriving so Nekros would soon sleep, as would his minions. I could have my own kill-for-hires destroy them within the hour and be done with this mess!

Pulling the sleeve of his robe clear of his hand, he leaned over the unconscious elf to clutch his throat. _Too bad he'd never wake up…._

Something cold and sharp pricked his neck. The point of a steel blade sent a shiver down his spine. Too late, the Imperial realized the presence of someone behind him. In fact, it was two 'someones'.

"Be very still." A man's voice warned.

"What have you done to him?" A woman's voice gasped, shoving him aside to cup the elf's face in her hands.

The Dunmer's friends had finally arrived! Interesting they would come of their own free will despite the number of men they'd sent after them. Valos swallowed the laughter bubbling up his throat. The irony was incredibly amusing to him. Two humans to fight off an entire clan of vampires, and Nekros as well! But then again, they had managed to elude the band of mercenaries, hadn't they?

"I asked you a question-" The woman snarled, turning on him. She grabbed the front of his robe and hauled him to his feet. Despite her small size, she managed to shake him. "What have you done to him?"

Valos tried not to laugh. "I only did as my master bade me to do." He replied. He found Master Kendari ready to run him through with a sword. "He's lost some blood-"

Disgusted, the woman shook him away from her, causing him to nearly stumble to the floor. She knelt again beside the Dunmer, and tried to rouse him. "Saber? Can you hear me?" Placing palms over his forehead and chest, she closed her eyes, mumbling words of a healing spell. A warm glow emitted from palms and fingertips, bathing over the body.

Saber felt pulled from the comforting blanket of unconsciousness. The world that Enril had brought him faded into darkness, and now something tugged him reluctantly into reality. The edges of pain nipped at him, drawing him further against his will.

_Not again…_He felt hands on him and could only assume Nekros wanted to feed again- _Didn't they have enough of my blood?_

"Saber?" A familiar voice was calling to him. "Wake up! You need to wake up!"

_The voice sounded familiar…_

Opening his eyes, the Dunmer roused enough to see her tear streaked face looking down at him. Most of her hair drew back from her face in a ponytail, with loose strands tucked behind ears. Her eyes were moist, and stress lined her face in worry.

_Eiryn? No…It can't be…. She's dead. Nekros killed her-_

"Saber! Get up!" She told him sharply, nudging him this time to move. Hands pulled at him, forcing his body upright. Joints protested movement from remaining still for too long.

"We don't have much time, boy, and I'm not carrying you. Now move!" Another voice sliced into his confusion and the elf had to blink several times to see his old swordmaster standing before him, wearing a motley bunch of armor and his long sword held at Valos' throat. Merthisan?

Still weak, Saber moved automatically to sit up, well aware of the warmth of Eiryn's hands, the cold sting of metal on his back from leaning against the bars of the cage. He reached up, trailing fingers along her face to reassure she was, in fact, alive. _Am I dreaming? Am I dead?_

"What's wrong, Saber? We have to get out of here." Eiryn was trying to help him to his feet now.

A light chuckle brought attention back to Valos. "Yes, Saber, by all means, make your escape now. Nekros will find you soon enough." He smiled, unconcerned of the sword at his throat.

Something dark and sinister motivated from the Dunmer, who now found enough strength to get to his feet. Memories of Valos' ministrations brought rage, what the man did to Fargoth also goaded his temper. This…_thing_…had served Nekros-

"You bastard…" He snarled, moving past Eiryn to grab the man by the throat. The Imperial baulked at the sudden strength the elf seemed to have as air was cut off.

"Saber!" Merthisan's tone sharpened, "We don't have time. We need to get out of here."

"_Where is Nekros?"_ Saber snarled at Valos.


	32. Ch 32 Into the Light

Chapter 32 Into the Shadows

"Nekros? He's here?" Merthisan breathed in disbelief as Saber shoved the unknown Imperial against a stone column. The force was strong enough to crack his skull against the rock. The sound echoed in the spacious room as the man staggered, nearly passing out before an odd laugh bubbled up his throat. He seemed drunk, unaffected, or uncaring as the Dunmer throttled him.

"Yes Nekros…." The man giggled, seemingly undeterred by the rough treatment. "Go to him, Feryl. I'm certain he'll want to say good-bye."

Something in the words incensed Saber. Glaring, the Dunmer drew back his fist and hit him solidly in the jar. The man's head snapped back, rapping against the stone once again. He began to fall to the floor before Saber grabbed the front of his robe and yanked him back on his feet.

"Where will I find him!" He snarled, pushing him with the force of his body.

The man managed a smile despite the blood leaking out his nose, and even dared a smug chortle. "Where else to you find vampires? They are below…all of them. If you're lucky, they will be asleep."

His meaning was not lost to Saber who threw him to the floor. The whole clan was below, where the sun never dropped its rays, and only one entrance to the den. Kogoruhn was perfect for the undead. To go below would be entering a Kwaama nest with only one way out.

Shaking out of his temper, Saber finally noticed Eiryn and Merthisan standing with odd expressions on their faces. Eiryn looked unsettled, which was understandable being what they found in this lair, but Merthisan maintained a hard composed stare. Saber recognized this as a practiced method of remaining clear-headed in face of danger.

"Nekros…?" Merthisan spoke softly, more to himself than anyone else. "A vampire?" Saber could tell by the slight shake of his head, and nervous habit of raking fingers through his gray hair that the swordsman was trying to figure out for how long Nekros had been one of the undead.

"Saber?" Eiryn stepped forward, still uncertain. Her green eyes settled on the dark bruising she found at his throat. "Are you-?"

"No." He told her, knowing her question before she could finish. "I'm immune."

Feeling on edge, the Dunmer scanned the room seeking out a number of items he'd need for the battle ahead of him. On one of the tables lining the far wall, he discovered healing potions, various weapons, and anything else he might use to end this once and for all. He knew he couldn't leave, not yet. Leaving meant he'd never be free of Nekros, nor would he know when, or if, the monster would strike next.

Merthisan frowned, as he kept guard on the Imperial. "Saber? You can't go, not by yourself."

The elf found amid a pile of throwaway items a mix of worn leather, and even weapons, but there was no sign of the Manos blade. "I have to finish this." He muttered, getting dressed. "If I don't, he'll kill you, kill everyone I know."

"Why do you think that?" Eiryn asked. She felt unnerved by his behavior. For some reason, she had hoped he'd be happy to see them, and that he would want nothing more than return with them back to camp. His movements were hurried, his manner grown distant.

She watched him take only a moment's pause in his buckling armor. His gaze settled upon her with a mixture of sadness and something else Eiryn didn't understand. "Because he already has…" He blinked slowly and turned, and then went back to what he was doing.

"What? What are you talking about?" Eiryn glanced at Merthisan who looked just as confused as she did. Had Saber gone mad? Was his touch in reality faded, lost to soul sickness? The swordmaster also didn't like this, not one bit. They needed to escape, not go further into the ancient stronghold. Somehow, she sensed something happened here, something that ran deep within the elf that he needed to exorcise. To do this, he needed to face his nemesis.

Saber shook his head, "There is no time to explain. I need to do this- I _have_ to do this. The two of you need to return to the camp. Tell the Ashkhan what you've found here-"

Eiryn felt her anger flare. "Excuse me? I did not come all this way to heal you so you can go off and die alone!"

The elf strapped gauntlets to wrists, sliding short daggers to either side of his forearms. He was hoping to carry as much of an arsenal as he could for the battle ahead. He didn't even look at her when he spoke. "Below in the lower levels might be Corprus Beasts, not to mention more vampires. I'm immune to both. You can't help here, and the tribe will need to be warned."

His words sounded sensible, but served to only frustrate the young Breton even more. "You can't take on a clan of vampires on your own." She tried to explain, tried to reason with him. Only, she considered he was hardly being rational at this time. _He's going to die here, and we may never even know. _

"If I don't go now-" Saber swallowed, unable to even think of the consequences of failing. Nekros may very well slaughter everyone he'd ever known. He knew that Lyra must still be alive, just as Eiryn, and of course Merthisan, but escaping Kogoruhn would mean the vampire would come for them later. "This is my fight, and remember, I have a quest to finish."

He gulped several restorative potions, feeling the warm rush of magick strengthening limbs and even providing a rush of power he'd need. He quickly tied his hair back with a length of cord, and double-checked his person for anything else he might need. All this time, he refused to look at either of them, fearing he might lose his resolve, or face the guilt he felt at how he treated them earlier. _Time enough for apologies for later…if I survive this._

And it was unlikely.

Valos' laughter broke the eerie tension in the air. He rested his back against the stone pillar where Saber had left him, nursing a swollen lip while dabbing blood on the sleeve of robe. "Give Nekros my regards, Feryl." He sneered.

Eiryn wasn't certain whether the tone or content of words incensed Saber, but he turned on Valos like a rabid hound. Moving across the room with deliberate speed, he punched the man in the face with a resounding thud as fist met jaw.

The man staggered with blood flowing from nose and mouth, unable to slump to the floor as Saber's fist grabbed the front of his robe to haul him back for another blow. At first Eiryn thought, the few punches would be enough, but Saber hit him again, then again, as if unable to control the anger inside him.

The attack was horrible to watch as Saber appeared to be unraveling of his reason. Eyes were white-rimmed, glowing orange red as he pummeled the human. Teeth bared in a snarl each time he struck another blow. Eiryn wasn't sure if he was going to stop.

"Saber-?" She said, more frightened now of his madness than of his injuries. She could heal his body of damage or illness, but what of his mind? Eiryn could only imagine what he must have gone through at the hands of his former master, and even this man obviously had done something to create such a rage.

Even in the dim glow of torchlight, she could see faint scars across his back and chest that could only be whip marks. At wrists, skin chafed from the manacles he wore since his capture. With magic or potion, scars would fade, but what of his mind. A wave of fear and nausea was nearly overwhelming as she considered Saber in the clutches of such a vile creature.

The Imperial made a garbled sound that might have been an attempt at speech, but the elf continued to beat him. "Saber!" Merthisan spoke this time, growing more concerned at Saber's savagery. The sword master stepped forward to grab the arm that held the hapless man barely conscious now. "Saber!"

As if waking, the elf blinked a few times to focus on Merthisan. He appeared as if finally taking hold of his senses as he realized what he was doing. Releasing his victim, Saber let the man drop to the floor. Saber fought the urge to kick him, as he stood back.

Knuckles were bloody and Valos' face was quickly swelling from the injuries. Saber glared, realizing hadn't thought a thing as he punched him, only felt the helpless rage at Valos' hands. It wasn't enough seeing the man practically broken. Valos was a vile, corrupted beast. He was vaguely aware of Merthisan and Eiryn standing in awkward silence behind him. He'd never let anyone see his temper this bad before, and only now understood he nearly beat someone to death.

"Where is Nekros?" He asked again. Emotion was pushed aside to deal with the task at hand. Nekros had to die. He needed to focus on this.

Valos managed a crooked smile despite a swollen lip and the damage to his face. "Lower levels." His mouth dribbled blood and spit. "Your master awaits..."

For a long, oddly tense moment, Eiryn watched as Saber stared with eyes red and orange in the firelight at the crumpled man. She saw his throat work to swallow, and then without any emotion at all, Saber moved with purpose. Hands gripped the man's head at chin and scalp, twisting in a final, definitive snap.

Eiryn gasped, even stepping away as the Imperial slumped lifeless to the floor. She glanced at Merthisan who also stared in shock. She had no idea what part the man played in Saber's situation here, but the death seemed so brutal-

Merthisan hadn't enough time to stop him and now stood mouth agape at the Dunmer. "Saber…" He breathed in disbelief, "What have you done? What's happened to you?"

The elf drew himself up and clenched fists. "Nekros is a vampire, Merth." He explained, eyes staring at the body before him. "That's how he survived. And this…._thing_…was helping him." He jerked his chin in the direction of what was left of the bodies left on the walls. "Don't mourn his death until you've mourned for his other victims."

Something in the words seemed to show a coldness Eiryn hadn't observed in Saber. He barely seemed the Dunmer she knew, but then again, he'd been very different since Nibani had voiced he was on the path of the Nerevarine. What sort of thoughts must be running through his mind now?

Eiryn swallowed hard, and stiffened her posture. "If you insist on going, then he'll need our help-" She began, trying to sound determined but Saber turned sharply at her.

"No." He told her firmly. "This is for me to finish." He looked up at Merthisan and something unspoken passed between them. "Both of you should go. You should tell Sat Matuul what happened here. I think a few of Valos' latest victims were some of the tribal people-." He hesitated as if going to say more, but simply walked away without another word. He headed towards the lower levels.

_I'm going to lose him_, she thought. "Wait." She ran up to him, pulled the tiny opal ring off her finger. "Take this."

His gaze settled on the ring of recall, remembering the spell was set for the Urshilaku camp. Saber stared a moment at the stone sparkling of magic, and his body eased its tension. Lips softened into a crooked smile, the first sign of the old Saber she knew. "Thank you." He murmured, taking the ring to place it on a pinky. He turned to Merthisan. "You both need to go."

Merthisan opened his mouth then shut it, not liking this decision. "Are you sure?" He asked, hoping to delay the Dunmer enough to convince him of the folly of his intention. Even as he considered this, he knew the argument was lost.

"Go." Saber nodded and turned away to head to the lower levels.

"I'm going to lose him…" Eiryn murmured sadly watching him go.

Merthisan stared at the dead Imperial, grimacing at the unnatural bend to the man's neck as he lay motionless on the floor. "I'm afraid we already have…."

--------

Saber felt disjointed and on edge when he entered the lower halls of Kogoruhn. He knew was being too reckless now, pumped up with adrenalin, anticipation, and the potions he'd taken. Thoughts were difficult to focus through the rising need to kill. Blood felt hot, and the darkened halls beckoned him to move faster with silent and deadly grace. _Either way, it will end here_, he thought darkly. _Nekros is not escaping me this time._

Moving swiftly, ears tried to detect sounds before him. He made his way to the familiar path he'd taken before, into the area where he had met the Flame Atronach and the vampires upon his capture. No doubt, this would be the place the clan might find their resting place during daylight hours.

Gripping the hilt of the sword, Saber knew that he'd not have much chance taking on the entire group, but given that he'd catch them asleep would be to his advantage. He crept out to the high bridge over the spacious hall. Tall pillars lined the room, space evenly with the coffins below. He counted about ten, and was glad to see them closed and unattended.

To either end of the long room, he could see doors shut. If he remained quiet, he might be able to destroy the undead before Nekros grew alerted to his presence. Casting levitation, Saber floated down carefully to one of the casket closest to him. He must be swift and definite. If the vampire awoke, he might call the alarm to his or her clan, leaving Saber to face the entire group with very little in the way of protection.

Slowly lifting the lid, he looked inside and caught his breath. Ashes lay where the body of the vampire would be. A wooden stake hammered into the bottom.

_Who-? _

Had Valos done this? No, he didn't have time. Perhaps one of his men-? Confused, Saber turned to another coffin finding the same end to that one. One by one, he found the vampires had already been killed and apparently without struggle. Someone had killed them as they slept and were unknowing.

_Who did this?_

Unable to find the answer, Saber reasoned the answer didn't matter for now. The goal was the same, only now his job was easier. Moving towards the far door to his right, he touched an ear to the wooden door to listen beyond. He couldn't hear anything, and could only assume Nekros was sleeping or perhaps had also met the same fate as his clan.

Part of him wanted to find the vampire already dead, yet another part wanted to be the one to do the killing. Saber also found much to his dismay; a very small part of him felt some regret to having to kill his former master. For all the monster Nekros was, his admission of cruelty and his regret for being so tugged at Saber's ideals. He'd cried once at the loss of his master, and to this day, was uncertain as to why. Perhaps because Nekros was all he ever knew of family, despite all the fear and pain he'd caused him. Nekros was the only 'father' he'd come to know for the early years of his life.

Nekros' admission to failing the elf also disturbed him. He'd never thought to hear such things from his master, and now could only wonder how easily he would've followed him if only for a kind word now and then. There were even the odd occasion Nekros had given praise, or seemed pleased with Feryl's quick learning. As a boy, Saber practically craved Nekros' approval, but nothing was ever good enough.

Reminded thusly, the Dunmer moved ahead.

Thankfully the door was unlocked, and made no sound when he slowly edged the portal just enough to peer inside. The room beyond was not as spacious in height as the grand hall, but was about as wide in girth. Tapestries donned the walls in vibrant colors of scenes of hunts and courtly living. Two large braziers lit the room in a warm and welcome glow, even burning an earthy scent of incense to cut through the scent of death that clung to the stale air. Tables had various scrolls, maps, and a library of books along the far wall with a desk having piles of papers and quills for writing. This seemed more of a nobleman's room than vampire's den.

Keeping his wits about him, Saber found not a large bed but an ornate coffin to the far corner of the room. Of course, Nekros would have only the best. No standard casket for him! Imported burl wood ingrained with filigree and brass edging, matched the same brass fastenings at hinges and locks. _No doubt he slept in silk_, the Dunmer grimaced in disgust.

Saber frowned, stepping closer to the coffin and finding his heart racing in …fear? He wasn't certain now. Anticipation? Again, he could not fathom the myriad mix of emotion as he gripped the sword to make knuckles go nearly ash gray. It has to be done…he has to die…

Standing next to the ornate box, he carefully lifted the lid, caught the scent of earth and a mix of herbs…only to find the contents…empty?

"Really Feryl," A voice spoke behind him, "Are you so surprised? Did you honestly think I'd be that easy to kill?"

_Note from the author: This chapter, for some reason, took me forever to write, and I'm still not entirely happy with the wording. I might rewrite this at a later date. I haven't forgotten this fic, and I intend on continuing to a certain point of the story. I wanted to post this note to readers to understand that this fic will not consist of the entire story of the Nerevarine, but only to a certain part. Then I break up the stories into shorter, readable tales of Saber's adventures with Eiryn._

_In the meantime, enjoy and thank you all for the wonderful feedback!_


	33. Ch 33 Confrontation

Ch 33 Confrontation

Saber turned to find Nekros not far from him. _He must've used magick, kept himself hidden under a Chameleon spell_, Saber thought, letting the casket's lid fall back to close. He measured the creature before him, curious as to why Nekros didn't bear a weapon, nor did he seem tense or anticipating a fight.

Nekros stood next to one of the pillars, leaning with arms crossed and a casual tilt to his head. Wearing an elegant doublet that matched the belt and boots, the vampire also had the Manos sword at the ready, sheathed at his hip. He did not attempt, however, to withdraw it.

Combed back from his face, his shoulder length hair was otherwise unbound. The lengths framed his square face, the strong jaw, and the wide set eyes. The thin lips curled into a smug grin.

"Even if I had been asleep," The vampire explained, nodding his head to indicate Saber's hands, where blood had dried on his knuckles. "I could smell Valos' blood on you from the other room. I suppose you've killed him?" Nekros seemed undisturbed with the likelihood his mage were now gone.

_I'll have to remember how sensitive their smell is the next time I deal with these leeches_, Saber noted. He shifted slowly into the center of the room in case Nekros attacked. "Your clan..?"

Nekros splayed hands out before him. "They served their purpose." He told him simply. "You should thank me. They would've caught the scent of blood as well."

"You killed your own clan?"

"Is that so hard to believe? Am I not the very essence of evil to you?" Nekros laughed this time. "I've always been a loner, Feryl. Besides, they were, how you say, inadequate as vampires went."

The Dunmer grimaced in disgust. "You killed them after they played out their usefulness? What would've happened if I changed-"

Nekros watched him carefully. "You and I would return to the Imperial City."

"Alone?"

"Of course alone." He moved slowly, not turning his back on his former apprentice. "Their lives were useless, as was Valos and his men."

"You came all the way to Morrowind just to find me and force me to be embraced?" Saber found this hard to believe. Then again, he'd assumed Nekros had wanted revenge by his death. What better revenge than to have him as a thrall for eternity..?

"Now you can understand my frustration that you haven't changed." The vampire said with wry smile. "And why I don't understand how you cannot appreciate all that I've done."

The Dark Elf scowled darkly as he lifted his sword. "Shall I show you how much I appreciate what you've done for me?" He offered.

The vampire laughed at this, surprised at his former apprentice. "Are you certain you wish to engage me, Feryl?" He lowered his raspy voice in warning, the smile fading quickly. "Is this where you think we fight and good triumph over evil, because I assure you that your dear master Kendari has filled your head with fairy tales."

"You know why I'm here." Saber told him.

The vampire shrugged, unimpressed. "To destroy me I assume." He sighed. "Though I am rather surprised you'd seek me out when you could make your escape." He paused, lifting his ragged voice in pitch that mocked at his former apprentice. "Ah, but then you'd never know would you? You'd never know when I might strike again."

"It ends here. One way or another." Saber told him firmly, swinging the sword in a flourish. Only then did he realize he was giving Nekros a chance to arm himself. Why haven't I rushed him? He had the advantage, hadn't he?

The vampire's vision narrowed, and the gaze dropped. The man was so damned confident! He moved slowly, shifting his stance towards a desk beside him, placing long fingers upon a familiar book that lay open. "But I would think it has just begun…"

The binding and recognizable writing made his breath catch. _My journal!_ _He knows everything!_ Saber scowled, suddenly very self-conscious with the notes he'd written about this prophecy and his reason for coming to Morrowind. The last passages were all about Lord Nerevar, the history of the Tribunal, and his being named Nerevarine. "That doesn't concern you." The thief spat, growing angry.

Nekros' eyes flashed, the smile widening. "The reborn Dunmer hero, eh?" He said, and Saber tried to find the mockery in his voice. "Sent to the land of the Dark Elves to fulfill an ancient prophecy? I'm impressed."

Rage flared, "I never said I was the Nerevarine." He growled, gripping the hilt of his sword.

"You didn't have to." Came the reply. "I always knew you were something special."

"I've come to kill you Nekros, not debate with you." Saber said, taking a step forward.

The vampire lifted brows and held back another laugh. Nekros moved away from the table, finally drawing out his blade. "I suppose you need this then, this final fight? Will my death bring you some peace to your conscious?" He swung his longer sword in a graceful arching flourish. "And will your death bring peace to mine?"

Saber didn't pay attention to the words. All he saw was the creature had a blade in his hand. Now he was armed, Saber advanced. Snarling with growing anger, he rushed the vampire with dizzying speed. They had never crossed blades, not even in practice. Nekros taught stealth, not fighting. He showed the young Dunmer how to slip a blade into a neck, or the swift death by a thrown dagger. Saber had learned swordplay from Merthisan, not his old master.

He'd assumed the vampire had little in the way of skills, never remembering having seen the master assassin ever battle save for once with Merthisan. Even then, Nekros had retreated, willingly by his own admission. Saber had assumed then that his master simply hadn't the skills as the Merthisan had. Now he found he was wrong. Seriously wrong. Nekros had skill with the sword in his hand. He didn't have the grace or style that Saber had, but being a vampire, his endurance, agility, and strength far outmatched his prior apprentice.

What was worse, Saber knew Nekros was toying with him.

Anger boiled as he slashed viciously, following through with stroke after stroke of brutal blows. Nekros didn't even break a sweat. He parried instinctively, catching the whirling blade as if expecting each attack. For each block, however, Saber didn't find he maneuvered a counter-attack. He was simply preventing the blade from finding its mark.

"Fight me, damn you!" Saber growled, switching to more ruthless street fighting tactics. Lashing a fist, he struck Nekros in the face that caught him off guard. "I'm not here to dance."

"No," Nekros backed up to touch his cheek where he'd been struck. Rising anger soon matched Saber's as eyes gleamed anew. "I believe you came here to die."

With renewed vigor, Saber felt his teeth nearly shatter from the strikes Nekros began to throw at him. It was all he could do to keep up the defense, and to deter the slashing steel from causing him injury. Even with that, he felt a nip and then bite of the sword finding breaks in his defense. His arms and chest began to drip blood.

"You don't honestly think you can win...?" Nekros' voice was like a wild animal's with the ragged voice speaking harshly. The pupils of his eyes grew wide in reaction to the scent of blood.

The vampire's attacks were now more forceful, more savage as the speed never wavered. Each blow hit hard against Saber's, and he felt each strike like an anvil. Panting for breath, he felt sweat threaten to blind him. He'd forgotten the strength Nekros had, made worse by his being undead. Vampires didn't grow weary, nor did they require to catch their breath. He knew, as well as Nekros knew, he was losing-

"Come now, Feryl." Nekros taunted him. "You can do better than that. Hadn't your Master Kendari taught you better? I would've thought you would be a master of the blade by now."

Saber tried to ignore the leaden weight on his arms, almost desperate now to fend off the blur of steel. He tried to find an opening, but found none. Sword fights were never long for they were tiring…for mortals. Each thrust or swing was becoming slower as Saber shifted, barely missing a wide sweep of Nekros' longer blade.

Nekros drew back, letting Saber a brief respite. "If you intend on fighting Dagoth Ur, you best improve your short blade skills boy." He then eased his stance, widening arms to let down his guard. "Let's finish this farce, shall we? Go ahead. Let's see if you have it in you to kill me after all."

Saber hesitated, unsure. Nekros widened arms, as if ready to welcome him in an embrace. He knew he'd not have another chance and lunged. The short blade thrust, but the vampire smiled. "Stop." The voice, jagged and broken now held an odd tone.

Suddenly, the Dunmer found himself rooted to the spot with arm extended the sword blade only inches from Nekros' stomach. Locked in a powerful magick, Saber realized too late Nekros' intention when he'd arrived. All this time he could've stopped the fight. No wonder Nekros had no fear or concern! He'd learned spells and magick that Saber was finding difficult to break. He might have thrown a dispel, or was using an enchanted item.

Dread and growing terror threatened to engulf the imprisoned thief. He cursed his stupidity, closed his eyes as he heard Nekros approach from the side. He fought against limbs refusing to work, as panic began to rise. A low menacing chuckle sounded in his ears. Trying to move, speak, or do anything was futile.

"You see Feryl?" He said in a low voice next to his ear. "You can't fight destiny. Some things are fate. Some people don't have choices."

What in all Oblivion was he talking about?

"Kneel." Nekros growled.

Saber felt his body weaken as he fought against the spell. He slumped to his knees, the steel of his sword clattered on the stone flooring. He tried to resist, tried to fight the strong compulsion of Nekros' command to no avail. _Damn him! Bastard is enjoying himself too much. _

His body twitched as he continually battled wills with the vampire, only to find Nekros kicking the sword away that was only inches from his fingers. Time seemed to slow then as Saber could only helplessly watch his old master stand before him as victor. _This is it. He's going to kill me._

"You insult me." Nekros murmured softly. He touched his left hand along the smooth metal of the blade, admiring the graceful beauty of its construction before touching the tip of the sword to Saber's chin. The yellow eyes gleamed in triumph. "Did you honestly think that I could be so easily defeated? Then again, you were always such a stubborn boy."

Saber remained frozen, waiting for the cold steel to pierce his throat. Sweat trickled down the side of his face, and his panting for breath was the only sound in the room.

"After all I've done for you..." Nekros said, pressing the tip of the blade to his chin. "After all I've offered, you'd still try to kill me…"

Saber stared at his hands, seeing fingers twitch. The spell of command was fading, but that hardly mattered being Saber had a sword at his throat. He could close his eyes now, his head bending slightly to accept his end. _My only regret…was not telling Eiryn how much I loved her…_

"Just do it." Saber muttered, finally finding his voice. "Finish it."

Moments passed agonizingly slow as Nekros remained before him, pressing the sword's tip until blood was drawn. "You should remember that I'm in your blood now." The vampire told him, touching the sword tip to where he'd been bitten to the side of his neck. The cold steel threatened to cut deeper if he dared to move. "As you are in mine, regardless if you were embraced or not. I think there is profound meaning in all that."

Nekros stepped back. "Seems a shame really." He finally said, with an odd unreadable expression on his face. "To destroy Morrowind's only hope."

The words sunk in slowly, and just as Saber realized Nekros had no intention of killing him, he looked up to see the vampire lift brows. "What?"

"But I can't have you hounding me for vengeance, now can I?" Nekros lifted his free hand, and a ball of light began to swirl from the palm, forming a cloud.

_He's going to kill me with magic?_ Saber blinked, feeling stupid as the world around him suddenly went dark. There was no pain, and he had no memory of even hitting the floor.

---------------------------------------------

Nekros stared at his former apprentice for several long moments, being sure the sleep spell had taken full effect. He crouched beside him, rolling him onto his back to touch a finger to the small pinprick of blood at his chin.

"A shame…" He smiled inwardly, wiping the blood to taste. "to destroy a work of art."

And that is exactly what he'd considered Saber; his creation. Perhaps not entirely his of course, being that Master Kendari has done a marvelous job of raising him, but the Dark Elf had grown into so much more than anticipated. He wasn't the cold-blooded killer Nekros had planned, but it would seem the boy had a larger destiny to fulfill.

Nekros was intrigued upon finding the journal. For his own time in Morrowind, the vampire had also found his dreams plagued by promises of Dagoth Ur and the Sixth House. He knew that dark times were ahead. With the Dunmer's passion against 'outlanders', how far would Dagoth's reach be once he had full power? The Emperor's health was declining, the heir to the throne would wreak havoc in Cyrodil. More than likely, the neighboring lands might take advantage and go to war, if a civil war didn't ravage the Empire first.

The threat of Dagoth Ur seemed definite in a course for trouble.

Saber was very well Morrowind's only hope…


	34. Ch 34 Returning home

Chapter 34

Saber woke feeling cold and aching. He lay on his back on the stone floor, disheveled and altogether disoriented as to why he was there. The light shirt and pants he donned beneath the leather armor stuck to his skin from exertions of the battle. He found he was, not unexpectedly, alone. Nekros was gone, leaving him alive and bewildered that he was left like this.

Touching his chin, the Dunmer felt the tiny wound of the sword's blade had left, thereby proving to him that they had fought. He frowned. He'd lost the fight, and yet Nekros had actually spared him. Sitting up took effort, as he shook off the spell's effect. A headache threatened to grow worse, and having fallen asleep after such a brutal confrontation, left muscles stiff and sore. Joints protested movement when he shifted to sit up, trying to gain his bearings.

Only then did Saber realize that his pack sat beside him along with recognizable potions of healing. His frown deepened as he inspected the pack, finding within all the items he'd had before, including his journal. A familiar sheath also caught his attention, finding the Manos blade tucked neatly beside the pack. _What the-?_

Drawing the blade, Saber stared at his shocked expression at the bared steel. Red eyes blinked amid the runic glyphs etched into the metal. He couldn't believe the vampire left this for him. Why? For that matter, why spare his life after their confrontation? Nothing of this made sense. The Dunmer sat for several moments trying to make sense of his old master, unable to compare the vampire he knew to the one that raised him.

The thought occurred to him the vampire might only wish to further torment him rather than end his life so quickly, but instinct spoke otherwise. Nekros had voiced regrets. He also left healing potions and the coveted Manos blade for him. There was also the key to the lower levels, thereby telling Saber that Nekros knew his purpose for coming to Kogoruhn. He knew he had to go in the lower levels to find the tokens.

_Is he helping me?_ Saber was left stunned and even more disturbed by the vampire he'd come to learn was simply impossible to comprehend.

Sipping the healing potions until he felt pain ebb from his senses, he found the room nearly vacant of all items. Nekros had moved on, leaving only the furniture behind. How he managed this on his own, Saber had no idea. He might have more 'minions' to his beck and call, or even had unknown magic in his arsenal. Furthermore, Saber now had no idea when he might show up again.

_I had completely underestimated him_, Saber thought darkly. The fact the vampire had so easily defeated him weighed heavily against his confidence. What made things worse, was the former apprentice felt the stirrings of regret for having killed Nekros so long ago. Saber couldn't shake the memory of Nekros' admission of wrongdoing, nor could he push aside the vampire's pain of his betrayal. To the master assassin, his apprentice had been everything to him as much as wanted to be everything to him. And that boy killed him, Saber thought disgustedly. He wasn't sure to where the disgust was focused on.

Part of him still hated Nekros, but part of him also knew that the man….beast….whatever he was, had been the only parental figure in his life for most of his childhood. _Was it possible I am still seeking his approval?_

Hoisting his pack to his shoulders, Saber thrust all doubt and questioning aside. He still had this quest to complete, and the danger below would be distraction enough to silence these confusing thoughts. He didn't want to think further on this enigma of Nekros, or what he was going to once he found the tokens, or even if he was going to ever see the light of day again.

A glint of light caught his eye when he reached for the door's latch. He noticed the tiny opal ring on his pinky, sparkling back the torchlight with promise of a quick escape. He could, for that matter, leave now and go home. He could lose himself in Morrowind or elsewhere-

Something caught his throat as he drew open the door. _I have to do this_…and Saber had no idea why.

--------------------------------------

Eiryn sat on a woven rug outside the wisewoman's hut to watch the Ashlanders prepare for their journey to Kogoruhn. The past two days since returning to the camp had been long and tiring. Saber had yet to return, and many assumed he was dead. The night before the tribe gathered to find a solution to the problems of the mercenaries and possible vampires remaining at the stronghold. By dawn, they decided to travel to the Dunmer clanstead to clean out the nest of trouble once and for all. What's more, the tribe had decided to seal the entranceway to the lower levels as precaution against the Blight creatures there.

She had vehemently protested, voicing her concern for Saber and how could they possibly think of sealing the only way out? Even as she pleaded with the Ashkhan to reconsider, she knew their decision was for their survival. They couldn't risk the tribe on a single warrior who was most likely dead. Merthisan was oddly silent throughout the debate, looking pale faced and concerned, but otherwise said nothing.

Numb from the days' events, Eiryn sat with a blanket around her shoulders watching the warriors sharpen their weapons, and prepare to journey to the stronghold. A constant lump in her throat threatened to release into a steady stream of sobs if she didn't maintain control. Instead, she remained quiet now; mourning losses she wasn't ready to comprehend.

"Are you coming with us?" Master Kendari asked her softly as they finished their preparations. He wore his steel cuirass with the long sword at his hip. Borrowed pieces of armor made of guar skin made for a sharp contrast to his usual pristine appearance of steal and chainmail.

"To go shut Saber into the lower levels you mean." She mustered enough disgust in her voice to cause the man to wince.

The swordsman wet dry lips, and eyes blinked back the moisture he felt threatening to fall. "Eiryn…" He began, but she shot him a dark look, daring him to finish what he intended to say. He stiffened his resolve. She needed to hear it as much as he did. "You know Saber isn't coming back."

The scout swallowed hard. "We don't know that-" Her voice cracked, and her own doubts were apparent. A single tear trailed down a dusty cheek, which she quickly flicked away. "Saber is really good with the sword. You taught him. You should know-"

Merthisan looked away to the horizon, to the rising sun. The blue in his eyes turned pale gray in the bright light. "Yes, he's good. Good enough to fend off a clan of vampires? Good enough to fight his way through the underbelly of Kogoruhn?" The swordsman closed eyes, looking very old and wearied. "He went with hardly enough armor. He had no potions, or spells, and he went to face Nekros." The pause between words was full of meaning. "It's been two days…"

_Two days,_ she thought sadly. Even with the door to be sealed, he had the ring of recall. He could've used the magic to return, that is, if he could. How long would such a quest take? How many tunnels and battles would he fight before he found all three tokens? Would he find any healing if he'd been injured, or did he simply die alone and in the dark? The sudden vision of his lying dead, or worse, finally broke her.

Tears streamed down her face now, as she bent her chin to hide the fact. A sob bubbled up from her throat, and she covered her face with her hands. _Gone! He's gone! How could he do this to me?_ She knew her thoughts were not rational, that if Saber was dead, he certainly hadn't made the choice to do so. However, she wanted to go with him, even to die beside him if necessary, and he wouldn't let her.

She felt Merthisan sit beside her on the rug, letting her lean against him to share her grief. A hand stroked her hair to provide what little comfort he could. "He loved you very much." He whispered, dealing with his own sorrow.

_Loved…?_ She was painfully aware of the past tense.

Just then, a sound drew her attention, as the Ashlanders were suddenly chattering and talking at once. Something had happened. The eerie quiet of the morning hours was now buzzing with the excited chatter of the Ashlanders and the sudden appearance of Saber in a swirl of magic.

"By the Nine Divines…" Merthisan gasped. Both Eiryn and he rushed to his side.

Saber had appeared in the center of the camp, covered in blood, battered and bruised, but alive! He staggered as he caught his bearings, dropping the tokens before him. A heavy shield fell with the Dagoth cup, and something wrapped in sacking. He also had with him his pack, and curiously the Manos blade. Merthisan noticed, frowning and wondering how he came to find it. _Nekros….he must've killed Nekros!_

One of the warriors closest grabbed the Dunmer thief just as he fell, easing him to the ground. He groaned, clutching his side from a wound that still bled. Half the armor he'd worn was gone, with the shirt beneath torn and ripped, splattered with blood.

Eiryn ran to his side, startled to find he was still bleeding from a number of wounds. One arm had the sleeve torn, with livid burns raising blisters on the skin. A deep gash to his side dripped blood on the sandy ground. He was barely conscious as the wisewoman tried to encourage him to take some of the healing potion in her hand.

Centering herself, Eiryn laid her hand on the most vicious wounds and murmured the incantation of healing. A warm heat spread from her palm, swirling into fingertips until finally bathing the wound in the same glow. To her relief, the blood stopped flowing.

Saber suddenly fell limp, provoking Eiryn to cry out. Nibani touched her arm. "He's not dead. He's exhausted, child." She told her, motioning to the closest warriors to help carry him to the yurt set aside from them. "We'll set him to right."

Eiryn nodded, feeling brainless and followed them into the dark tent. Nibani set to work, cutting away the torn fabric and replacing damage with salves and bandages.

Eiryn kept a silent vigil by his side while the wisewoman made prayers and forced more healing potions into him. The wounds were worse than the scout thought, knowing that if he hadn't teleported back when he did, he would've bled to death. The extent of damage he'd received startled the young scout. From burns to deep gashes, the injuries were obvious that he'd healed on several occasions. He must have been fighting the entire journey.

Saber remained unconscious, oblivious to the help he was receiving, but this didn't stop Eiryn from keeping a firm hold of his hand, or murmuring promises that he'd be all right. Nibani assured her this to be true.

"A day or two, and he will be fine. He needs rest." She told her, tying off bandages wrapped around his forearm. Her face deepened the wrinkles at mouth and eyes when she shared a genuine smile. "You should sleep as well."

Unable to argue that point, Eiryn felt her own exhaustion prompt her to nestle beside him. Nibani left them alone, giving the young Breton a comforting pat on her arm to assure her all would be well.

---------------------------

Saber jerked awake catching his breath. Several moments passed before he recognized his surroundings. No…he wasn't in the windowless hell of Kogoruhn. He made it back to the encampment. No ash ghouls, no corprus beasts, no blight-infected creatures waiting in the darkness for him. Sweat covered his face, as he swallowed a dry throat. He shifted to sit up, finding Eiryn sleeping soundly beside him.

The realization of his escape from the horrors he'd faced washed over him in relief. Though overjoyed to see her near him, he was glad she remained asleep, not wanting the company or her concern just yet. Hands still shook, and his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. He hadn't had nightmares this bad since he was boy. He also wasn't quite ready to talk about Nekros.

Moving quietly, he gently removed her arm from across his chest and covered her with the thin blanket they shared. She looked exhausted with lines along her mouth and the skin a bit darker near the eyes. The dust of the Ashlands left streaks of grime across cheeks and nose. But she was still beautiful in his eyes, dust and all. The thief drank in the vision of her, finding it difficult not to crush her in an embrace and never letting go.

Long hair was still bound in a braid except for a few errant curls falling along her neckline. The heart shaped face seemed younger in sleep, providing her an appearance of innocence he knew she didn't have. The woman was a fighter, and, fool that he was, kept pushing her to safety. It was difficult not to, he mused. This perhaps was why Nekros had tried to teach him to live a solitary life. Friends and lovers made one feel weak, being a chink in the armor of a warrior.

I'm an idiot, he thought. Long fingers ever so gently brushed back hair from her face. He didn't regret refusing her to come along with him to Kogoruhn. He was immune to Blight and Corprus, she wasn't. It was as simple as that. However, he didn't have to send her and Merthisan to Balmora, now did he? He didn't have to be so harsh to her before, nor did he need to rant about his running off to lose himself in the backwoods of Morrowind.

Unable to sleep further, Saber crept without a sound from the yurt to find a clear night outside. The air carried a chill, and the soft whisper of a breeze blew his long hair across his face and throat. Stars twinkled above with the two moons in their prime. The moonlight cast shadows through the huddled mass of yurts amid the dunes. Rocks jutting from the hilltops appeared as stony guards from the world beyond.

Folding arms across his chest, Saber moved closer to the ashmire at the encampment's center. He wore trousers and only bandages, which were hardly enough from the night air. Thick liquid bubbled and steamed from underground streams of hot mud. Only a few trauma bushes welcomed the moisture that otherwise was unusable. The heat however was used to help warm the camp on nights such as this.

The scent of mud and ash filled his nostrils as the steam enveloped him in a warm embrace. He blew a sigh, trying to release the pent up tension he felt. Doubts nagged at his courage, and confusion concerning Nekros also baited him with further misgivings.

_He could be watching me now,_ Saber thought. Instinctively his gaze followed the horizon surrounding the camp to find nothing amiss. The sun was to rise soon, casting a warm pink glow to the east. No movement or out of sorts shadow could be seen. _He wouldn't so easily give up like this. He's up to something_. _Will I always be watching my back?_

"Couldn't sleep?" A voice spoke softly but nonetheless startled Saber enough to throw him off balance. The Ashkhan smiled at the younger Dunmer trying to regain composure and avoid falling into the mire. "My apologies. I did not mean to alarm you."

Saber was glad for the break in tension. He forced a smile on his face. "After what I've seen, you're the least of my concerns." The thief brushed loose hair from his face.

"You've passed the Warrior's test." The Ashkhan told him, the dark rimmed eyes assessing the bandaged wounds. "You've done what even I could not."

Turning away, Saber shifted awkwardly, unable to find the words to respond. For most of his life, the young Dunmer had lived by his wits and his own rules. Here, amid the Ashlanders, their rigid code of honor and courage was unsettling to one who chafed under any restrictions. Now however, he could at least understand why they lived as they did. Such rules and customs gave one's life consistency. Saber respected that.

"And I shall give now you the secret of the Third Trial." The warrior continued.

_Ah yes, the Third Trial. I am on the path of the Nerevarine. Two trials had already been passed, four more to go._ What was it that he felt suddenly as though he'd aged two hundred years?

Sat Matuul lowered his chin, giving him a stern look. "_In caverns dark Azura's eye sees/and makes to shine the moon and star._' This is the Third Vision." The Dunmer explained. "And you must go to the Cavern of the Incarnate, a place sacred to Azura, and look for the moon and star."

"And where might I find this place?" Saber asked. _Great, he thought, another seek-and-find errand._

"The secret of the Cavern of the Incarnate is set in a riddle." Sat Matuul looked to the star filled sky. "The eye of the needle lies in the teeth of the wind, the mouth of the cave lies in the skin of the pearl, the dream is the door and the star is the key."

Saber frowned and refrained from voicing the 'what-does-that-mean' response. "I see." He said softly, holding back other retorts.

"This is a test of Wisdom." Sat Matuul further explained. "Take counsel in the tribes. Gain the Moon-and-Star and return to Nibani. Take this-" He handed a soft leather belt, "with my blessing and the blessing of the tribe."

Saber touched the soft hide and felt fingers tingle with the enchantments that were melded into the material. Any magic item from the Urshilaku was treasured, as well valuable. He accepted the honor bestowed to him, and curious to what spells had been infused into the belt.

The moon-and-star… Family heirloom? Lord Nerevar had the Moon-and-Star as his family's standard. _It could be anything…_ He had no idea what to even look for. Hopefully whatever it was would look obvious…

"I will do this." Saber heard himself say. Perhaps the darkness of Kogoruhn held more sway in his decision, seeing all the horrid creatures there, or perhaps his resolution was born of the harrowing of Nekros. Either case, he now felt compelled to follow through and rid this place of the horrors of the Sixth House. It would keep him busy if nothing else.

What choice did he have? The choices left to him did not include going back to his life. He either could lose himself in this foreign land, with Dagoth Ur's power growing by the day, or try to be a hero. The thought galled him.

Saber swallowed hard. _Take it one day at a time…_

_At least this time, I don't intend on going on alone… _In fact, Eiryn might be the very thing to bring along to help find some lost cave in the hills of the Ashlands. Thinking of the Breton scout, a smile pulled his mouth into a smile.

---------------

Eiryn roused with a stretch and yawn, suddenly aware that the bedroll beside her was empty. Saber was naught to be found. Now alert, the scout scrambled up to toss the blanket aside. Just as she was pulling on boots, the curtained doorway drew back as the Dunmer entered the darkened yurt.

"Saber?" She gasped, seeing he still wore the bandage wrappings Nibani had placed around his torso and forearm. She quickly assessed him for injury, and how he fared. For all the damage he had the day before, you'd never know he nearly dead. "Are you…are you alright?"

He smiled, nodding. He put a finger to his lips, and then pointed to the pile of blankets to his right that slept with a low snore. "I had trouble sleeping." He whispered. Crawling back onto the bedroll, he laid down beside her.

Eiryn felt guarded, eying him with a discerning look. "Trouble sleeping?" She whispered back. The red eyes glowed back the ember glow. She could barely see the strained smile he gave her. "Are you sure you're alright?"

He was oddly silent for several long moments, simply staring back at her, studying her face. A hand reached up, touched her chin before falling back. "Yes…" His voice was so soft now. "I'm fine."

She relaxed. "I'll have to take your word for it." Eiryn muttered, settling back down beside him. Part of her wondered if he wanted her there. His hand found hers, drawing her palm to rest against his chest. His heart was fluttered beneath the bandages, despite the calm exterior. "What is it?" She asked, without looking at him this time. The tension between them was thick and awkward.

Saber released a drawn out sigh before speaking. "I was a fool," He told her slowly. His expression was pensive. "I never should have sent you and Merthisan to Balmora."

"At least we agree on that." Eiryn responded. The anger she'd bottled up inside since their last argument made her voiced edged. She also found the sudden temper she felt was because he nearly died…_again_. Her nerves were raw from all the worry and grief.

"I wouldn't blame you if you decided to leave-" He began but she shot up to glare at him.

"Leave?" She couldn't help now the rise in pitch that stirred Merthisan from his slumber. She tried to force herself into a softer tone. "Me? I'm not the one who runs off first sign of trouble-"  
Now it was Saber's turn to stiffen in indignation and sit up. "If you let me finish, and hear me out-"

"How can you even suggest that I'd consider leaving?" She huffed, not even hearing him.

"I'm sorry…" Saber looked duly chastised this time. He rubbed fingers along his forehead as if he had a headache. "I'm not very good at this."

"Good at what? Nearly getting killed, because so far I see you're really good at that." Eiryn asked, moving away from him. She crossed legs, arms soon followed.

The Dunmer sighed again. "Apologizing…I'm not very good at apologizing."

"Maybe you just need practice." She shot back. "Or maybe you shouldn't do things you have to apologize for to begin with!"

He fell silent again, as the face pinched into a frown. Eiryn wanted to rant further, but his stillness bespoke something deeper was running through him. Something had changed. Something had happened in that dark pit of Kogoruhn. She remembered how they found him unconscious in the cage, shackles like an animal. She remembered the horror of seeing him nearly beat a man to death.

Eiryn was still unsettled by what she had witnessed. She knew he must have gone through his own nightmares, and her anger began to wane.

He swallowed hard. "Nekros…" He coughed to clear something in his throat. "He …killed you."

"What?" Now she was confused.

"He killed what I thought was you…" He corrected himself, "And Merthisan. Nekros told me he'd killed Lyra as well."

"How?" How could he make a person look like someone else? Even as she asked, she knew the answer. Magic. Why then even do such a thing, other than torture him? Disgust pinched her belly at the thought.

A tongue flicked out to wet dry lips, and she realized how difficult this was for him. For a time in his prison, he believed they both had died. "Nekros had cast an illusion over a man and a woman. I don't know who they were, but at the time they looked just like you and Merthisan…" His gaze darkened in the memory, and she noticed he grew restless. "He killed them…right in front of me."

"And you thought they were us." She finished. How would she react if Nekros had killed Saber in front of her? The very thought was repugnant.

"It broke me." He admitted. Saber refused to meet her gaze. "I just couldn't…imagine…going on without-" The elf stopped, the frown deepened.

Eiryn wasn't certain what he was trying to tell her. Her anger abated almost immediately. Her hand found his, resting palm down upon a clenched fist. "But its fine, Saber. We're alive. You made it out. Nekros is dead-" The hand drew away quickly.

His eyes met hers in a guarded stare. "No, he's not."

"What?" This time Merthisan was awake, staring oddly at the dark elf in question. "How is that possible?"

The Dunmer shifted uneasily under their combined scrutiny. "We fought. He won." The words were clipped and edged. "For some reason he spared me. I woke hours later with my pack, healing potions, and the Manos blade beside me."

Eiryn sensed there was so much more he wasn't telling them, but felt it prudent not to press the issue…for now. "But you made survived, Saber, despite everything. That should amount for something."

Merthisan nodded, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "She's right, Saber. You've survived against insurmountable odds. You should be proud."

The Dunmer gave a derisive snort. "Proud? No, I'm not proud. Not the way I behaved before I left, not the way I treated both of you." He swallowed again. "And I'm spoken with the Ashkhan. I'm to face the Third Trial of the Nerevarine. I'm to find the Cave of the Incarnate."

Eiryn and Merthisan exchanged pensive looks, and in the few moments of awkward silence, the young scout knew what was coming next. A smile touched her mouth this time. So he was trying to apologize while asking them to join him on this quest. What's more, Saber wasn't running anywhere this time. "When do we leave?" She asked.

Saber smirked at her eager tone for adventure. "As soon as we're supplies for the journey." He told them.

_This was another chapter that had me frustrated with getting the words out. I've been so busy lately, with my son starting kindergarten, and other personal things happening, but the chapter is done. I might have to re-write later. I hope you enjoy anyway. PLEASE give feedback! I feel as though I've lost a bit of the magic with this chapter…._


	35. Ch 35 Riddles and Reason

Chapter 35 Of Riddles and Reason

_The eye of the needle lies in the teeth of the wind, _

_The mouth of the cave lies in the skin of the pearl, _

_The dream is the door and the star is the key_

_Riddles_, Saber thought in disgust, _prophecies always had to be in damnable riddles! _Why shroud this quest in mystery? Why all the metaphor and obscure references? Why not have a huge sign over this cave, wherever it is, pointing, "Nerevarine, go here!"? But then again, he thought darkly, why should anything be easy on him? Nothing about Morrowind had been easy as of yet. Why start now?

The Dunmer was beginning to question Eiryn's need for challenges and her sense of adventure. He supposed if the quests entailed stealing something, he might enjoy putting his skills to the test. Now, however, he felt out of his element. Seeking some dark and potentially dangerous cave in the middle of nowhere, and close to the very doorstep of Dagoth Ur was not something he was looking forward to.

As Sat-Matuul had suggested he'd questioned the tribes and found some reference to the Needle as a stone column landmark. The same type, Saber considered, that one might find just about anywhere in the barren lands of the Ashland region. The Valley of the Wind was also in reference to a landmark known as a short canyon near Red Mountain. This narrowed their trip down a bit, he thought.

Upon further questioning, Saber was told a direction of Northeast, east of a Daedric ruin known as Bthund. He'd been duly warned by a number of warriors that the valley was avoided at all costs due to the incessantly howling winds and some mention of restless spirits. _Great, _he thought_, that's just perfect, wouldn't be a real quest without the undead now would it?_

As each tribesman Saber questioned, the journey became more perilous and threatening. These were hardened warriors. Ashlanders were a tough bunch, never baulking at danger or a fight. If they warned of danger, the threat was indeed imposing. He could only hope this cave would be easier than what Kogoruhn had been. The thought of facing Nekros again also left Saber on the edge of uncertainty. Their last confrontation was unfinished, and now there was no telling when or where the vampire would show up. And why did he help me at all, Saber thought. Was there a greater plan in the works to punish me or make me suffer? For the time being, he felt it best to push the thoughts aside and focus to the task at hand.

With the tribe's warnings in mind, Saber decided to see what words of wisdom the tribe's wisewoman might provide. Nibani, although not aware of landmarks to the cave, revealed the meaning of the star as a key.

Pausing in her work of stripping Bittergreen petals, and working on making potions and salves. "Azura's star," The wisewoman smiled, pleased the young Dunmer was taking his quest more seriously now. "That is the key. The door opens only at when the star rules the skies, at dawn and at dusk. The star is the key that opens it."

So, Saber reasoned, not only did he have to try to find this valley, and the proper landmarks within a landscape that looked all the same to him, he also had to find the door that would only appear at dawn or at dusk.

Great… 

Eiryn was undeterred by the prospects when he complained later that night in their tent. Merthisan remained with the warriors by the fireside to swap stories of daring, leaving his companions to pack for the day ahead of them. Eiryn kept a more optimistic demeanor on the trip, assuring Saber that finding things is what she was good at. "I found you, didn't I?" She grinned at him.

Saber sat cross-legged in the dark yurt while he watched her expertly pack their things for the journey in the morning. How she managed to get all their supplies in three backpacks of modest size eluded him. She also had a talent for knowing exactly what was needed for the trip, from scrolls of healing spells, to potions, to anything else. "I wasn't aware finding me had been that difficult." He replied. "I had, after all, remained at Desele's for the greater part of the week."

The scout rolled her eyes, brushing hair from her face. This was one of the rare occasions she actually let the length fall loose about her shoulders, framing her face with the soft brown waves. "Ok, well maybe that's not a very good example." Eiryn admitted, "But I know the markers, and I have an excellent sense of direction."

She did at that, Saber knew, an almost uncanny sense of where to go and where she came from. He envied her skill. To him, traveling was frustrating. He'd been lost on more than one occasion while wandering the countryside of Morrowind, often being all turned around if a beast attacked, or bandits distracted him. _I guess I'm just a city boy at heart_, he smiled to himself.

"Did Nibani mentioned anything more about this cave?" Eiryn asked, rolling extra clothing into tight bundles. She also packed a few parcels of dried Scrib jerky, but thankfully, she would forage for fresh food rather than the chewy tasteless fare on their trip.

"Such as?"

"Such as warnings." She explained, "What dangers will we face? Are we going to face the undead, Daedric creatures, bandits?"

Saber finished with the blades, and set them aside. He stretched along his bedroll feeling tired and weighed down with the troubles of Morrowind. "I would imagine the answer to that is …yes."

The Breton gave a soft giggle at his reply before tossing her pack towards the door. Finished with her chore, she playfully settled down next to him, glad to have him near her once again. "Just to think…the cave of the Incarnate!" She breathed in awe. Her green eyes sparkled with the prospect of exploration and danger. "Only a choice few have ever seen the place! And what do you suppose will be the Moon and Star?"

"Maybe a relic?" Saber offered. By the lack of humor, he was clearly unable to share her sense of adventure. Somehow Eiryn knew his somber demeanor had other causes, not just the impending journey.

Eiryn shrugged, uncertain. "Nibani told me the moon-and-star was Nerevar's family standard. Some say he had a ring-"

Saber's face tensed. "The ring…"

"What's wrong?" She found him suddenly a thousand miles away.

"Do you know about the legend of the ring?" He asked her. She was, after all, a native of Morrowind. The woman shook her head, apparently having little connection to Ashlander or for that matter Dunmer legends.

"Its enchanted." He explained to her. "Lord Nerevar had the moon-and-star made in secret, by the Dweemer. It's said to have powerful magicks that had the wearer hold strong influences over others."

"Well that's good then," Eiryn reasoned, not understanding his concern. "If you find this ring, the moon-and-star will let you influence others. Won't that make your job easier?"

His face did not relax its frown. "Only Nerevar could wear the ring."

She twitched, now matching his frown. "What happens to anyone who tried to wear the ring?"

His gaze found hers, and did not waver when he spoke. "They died."

Eiryn breath caught, and she had to remember to breath. That's why he's concerned. If he finds this ring, and tried to wear it…and he wasn't the Nerevarine…. "Oh…" She said softly.

Saber sighed softly, pressing palms against his eyes. He was tired and tense, feeling on edge. "Sat-Matuul said to bring the moon-and-star to Nibani. Perhaps that is all I need to do. That is, if in fact it's a ring. We're only assuming what this thing is."

The scout nodded quickly, forcing a smile. "Look on the bright side," She told him. "We might not even make it to the cave of the Incarnate."

The Dunmer paused, casting her a sidelong glance as he tried to fathom her meaning. When he realized her joke, a reluctant smile spread across his mouth. Like the sun shining from behind storm clouds, the grin was the first genuine sense of humor he had since his time in Kogoruhn.

Since his return, the Dark Elf was anxious and nervous. He hadn't spoken much of his time in Kogoruhn, nor about his time with Nekros. Unmistakably, however, he was changed. Saber was quieter, not as self-assured. Words were more guarded now, and too often the young Breton found him distracted. She wondered if she'd ever have her light-hearted Dunmer again. Seeing him smile, gave her a bit of hope.

"You seem tense." She murmured, running her hand across his chest. She felt muscle tighten at the unexpected touch. "Do you need a massage?"

To her surprise, Saber shook his head. "I just need some sleep."

His refusal troubled her. Once, Saber was the most affectionate person she'd ever met. Now every touch he seemed to cringe, or pull away. Eiryn had hoped a night of affection might do him some good. She wanted him to open up and talk to her, to share what happened to him. She had no idea what transpired in the darkness of the Dunmer stronghold, but she'd not push the issue. Maybe all he needed was more time. She laid her head on his shoulder, making herself comfortable against him. "If you change your mind, you let me know." She told him.

"I'll do that." He murmured, almost asleep.

--------------------------

"_I'm in your blood," Nekros whispered, his ragged voice titillating and alluring. "There's no escaping that! We are alike, you and I, and you are finally mine."_

"_No!" Saber growled, unable to move. He wanted to thrash out to the Vampire before him, but was held firmly in the steel grip of a spell. All was darkness save for the tiny area he was trapped. He could barely see in front of him except for Nekros. "I am nothing like you!"_

"_We are killers." Nekros continued with a smile, fangs showing pearly white in the darkness. He stood inches from the bound elf, pleased with his new trophy. "We are the hunters. You may not feed on blood, but you hunger for it just the same."_

"No I don't!" Saber snarled back, pulling furiously at the bindings he couldn't see. "I will never be like you. Never!" 

-------------------------------

Eiryn awoke abruptly when Saber lurched upright from the bedroll, moving so fast he was in a semi-crouch by the time he seemed to fully waken. She found herself instinctively giving him space, not wishing to be mistaken in the darkness for a nightmare. The fire had burned to only embers, causing his eyes to glow eerily in the dim light as she saw him blink several times. Sweat pasted hair to forehead and cheeks. Panting for breath, he looked around in confusion before realizing where he was.

"Are you alright?" She asked, keeping her distance. Sweat beaded across his brow, which he wiped away, quickly nodding. The jerky movements, as well as the feral, caged manner also alarmed her.

"I'm fine." He muttered, trying to resettle upon the blankets "Just a bad dream."

"A bad one." She commented. Eiryn noticed his hand shook when he brushed his hair from his face.

"I've been having a lot of those lately." He replied, this time turning away to indicate he no longer wished to discuss this further. She sat up and was able to see his profile. He was apprehensive, perhaps even a bit embarrassed.

"My mother used to tell me if you spoke of your dreams, they would hold no power over you." She spoke gently.

Saber remained stoic, staring at the wall of the yurt. "I have more to deal with than monsters under the bed, Eiryn." He pointed out stiffly. "Talking about them won't make them go away."

"Neither will shutting me out." Eiryn found her tone had grown edged, while anger began to tug at any sympathy she might have for him. She laid back down, yanking covers back over her.

Saber rolled back, he looked at her to discern her temper. Staring at her oddly, he soon relented. "I dreamt of Nekros." He told her, looking away. Eiryn could see him swallow a few times before he continued. "I was…trapped and couldn't move."

Letting the silence drift between them, Eiryn waited for him to continue. With hesitation, he then told her everything he'd experienced with his old master. How he'd been caught, tortured, and then Nekros trying to embrace him. He found the words almost catching his throat when he tried to describe his watching them die, or the illusions of them dying. His story continued to include his confrontation, and now growing confusion of why Nekros let him live.

Eiryn was silent, curious herself to why this vampire that had plagued Saber for all this time would so easily relent his grip on his protégé'. She had the distinct feeling this was not the last they'd hear of him. "You're not like him." She stated firmly.

Startled, Saber tilted his head slightly. "I didn't say I was."

"But your dream did."

For several long moments he pondered her words. "I suppose you're right…" His tone indicated he wasn't sure or wasn't ready to admit anything. Eiryn lay beside him, softly trailing fingertips along his forehead. Like a cat, his eyes closed and he simply enjoyed the warmth. The touch was soothing and reassuring.

"Trust me," Eiryn whispered. His eyes opened as he heard her words, saw the belief in her deep green eyes. "You're nothing like him."

The Dunmer tried a wane smile. At first he seemed to want to say something, but opted instead to enjoy to her gentle contact. He couldn't bring himself to share his concerns of being somehow contaminated by Nekros. He'd always been troubled with the influence Nekros had upon him, the cruelty he might be capable of. Eiryn's presence, however, seem to put those dark shadows back under the bed for him, at least for now.

Clasping the head that touched with a loving caress, he pressed the fingers against his lips. She was real, not an illusion, nor a dream. _At least, for now, I can cope with that._

------------------------

The next day, the three adventurers headed out along the Northern coastline heading east. Each bore packs of supplies they'd need, keeping weapons at hand, and a cautious eye on the landscape about them. Eiryn reasoned that they should stay along the water's edge, thusly preventing an attack from both sides from any Blight infected animals or other dangerous beings in this harsh land. Even then, every time a boot broke the water's surface, a fast moving flash of silver sped to lash out razor sharp teeth.

"Disgusting creatures." Saber snarled low. He hated Slaughterfish. Some grew to the length of a man's leg and swam with silent speed and deadly accuracy. Too often, they swam in schools though even just one of the creatures could offer injury. They were worthless as well, providing mostly bone and too little meat. He'd been told the scales might provide some magical properties, but he preferred to keep a distance from them.

The Dunmer admired the easy gate of the woman before him. She kept almost ten paces ahead, her attention focused on the trail before them. Now and then the Breton stopped to crouch and take note of a broken root or track, sometimes motioning to the men behind her to remain still and silent as she maneuvered them around herds of wild guar or a diseased animal.

There was something almost untamed about the way she moves, Saber smiled to himself. He watched as Eiryn strode up a hill, slinking to a crouch as she neared the ridge to peer with a hesitant eye over to the dale below. Only when she found no danger did she move ahead. The grace she maintained despite the weighted pack impressed him. She also kept her staff in hand, at the ready in case they face adversaries. Briefly she paused to look back at him, making sure they followed at a fair distance, and flashed him a smile.

Saber felt his heart do a slow turn, mesmerized by that wonderful smile of hers. How could he have even considered sending her back to Balmora?

"How much further?" Merthisan's voice cut into his thoughts, bringing him back to the task at hand. The aging swordsman wiped sweat from his face with the back of hand, looking a bit weathered from the trip so far.

Saber paused before answering, realizing that Merthisan Kendari was nearing the age most swordsmen retired. Gray hair fell to shoulders, and the day's growth of beard was speckled gray and brown. Every time he squinted, the lines near eyes creased more than usual, and the Dunmer was struck by how old the man had become.

_And I will no longer age…._

Eiryn shaded her eyes from the sun above with her hand, looking eastward to the mountain that loomed before them. "We will pass the Daedric Shine soon. Perhaps by nightfall, if we're lucky, we'll find that valley."

Saber hoped so. He had never traveled this far into the wastelands, and the knowledge that there wasn't a shrine, temple, or city to be found was disquieting to him. He felt Merthisan clasp his shoulder to give an encouraging squeeze. The gentle reassuring smile also urged him to keep going.

----------------------

Hours later, after navigating around Blight infected herds of Guar and Kagouti, Eiryn paused to look up between the tall pillars before them. Even Merthisan made some obscure noise of awe upon seeing the tall rock spires.

"The teeth of the wind?" Saber spoke loud enough for them to hear over the wind. , For that past hour, the howling gales of the area had been relentless.

Eiryn nodded, tucking the scarf on her head closer around her eyes. Merthisan did the same. So far, they did not encounter ash storms, even being so close to Red Mountain, but the wind was blowing grit and particles that caused even Saber to cover up. He regretted not bringing one of the leather helmets he'd seen the tribesmen wear. The suffocating hood covered everything including eyes with glass or resin lenses, but kept the threat of Blight from infecting the wearer.

The constant howl of the wind was maddening, and Saber could see why the Ashland warriors avoided this place. With a Daedric shrine so close, and Red Mountain looming not far, this was dangerous ground indeed. By the look of the trail ahead, nestled between two very steel hills, the wind would also be inexorable.

"How much farther, do you think?" Merthisan yelled over the wind.

Eiryn looked up at the fading sun. "Another hour, best guess." She shouted back.

"Let's go." Saber ordered, this time taking the lead. There was no going anywhere else but forward by the looks of the trail. His frustrated sigh was not heard over the gale, as he knew the way was going to be all uphill.

_I wanted to capture the emotional turmoil Saber would feel after having to undergo the lower levels of Kogoruhn and what he endured with Nekros. This chapter also was for re-connecting with Eiryn and back to 'reality' for him_.


	36. Ch 36 Moon and Star

Chapter 36 Moon and Star

"There it is!" Eiryn shouted back to Saber. Her arm was extended to the way before them, but Saber found he could barely see a damned thing in the blustering wind, let alone whatever 'it' was. The incessant wind was maddening. The added grit to the gale made seeing anything impossible. He was lucky to even hear her shout above the din of the wailing storm. Only when he drew closer to his scout did he see the faintest outline of a door before them.

The Cavern of the Incarnate… 

So, Eiryn was good at finding things after all. Somehow the Dunmer had expected more problems that this short trip had offered. With Merthisan and Eiryn by his side, any of diseased creatures encountered were easily dispatched, and all three managed to avoid an Ashlander camp of outcasts as well. As of yet, none of them even received injury or illness on this endeavor. Apparently having his companions with him was proving to make his job that much easier.

The door before them appeared to be made of stone, carved and shaped with moons and stars. The portal was also massive, inset against the side of the mountain with no apparent lock or latch. This has to be it, Saber thought to himself. Both Merthisan and Eiryn stepped aside to let him inspect the door. Strangely, there was nothing in the way of how to open it.

The Dunmer set his pack aside, pressing his shoulder to the stone. Deep down, he wanted the door to remain locked to further prevent entry and to give him another day before facing whatever lay within. The stone, however, shifted easily under his exertions. A voice filled his head, vibrating to the very bone.

"In the dawn hour, under Azura's star…the door is opened…" 

Their timing had been perfect. The darkening sky, and the brilliant star of Azura would be prominent if not for the clouds overhead. The sound of stone against stone soon gave way to the eerie stillness of the opened cave. He found himself looking into the darkness, the entryway gaping as if to swallow him whole.

Merthisan was already lighting a travel lantern, while Eiryn chose a torch to bear. Saber opted to depend on night vision, and motioned them both to stay behind him. Silent nods of concurrence followed.

As they entered the cave, the dark elf caught the scent of stone and fungus. Not surprisingly the cavern was scattered with the luminous mushrooms found everywhere in Morrowind. They almost had no need of the torch and lantern. The blues and purples cast a gentle hue against the dark stone walls, revealing the short tunnel leading to the vast cavern beyond.

All three adventurers stood open-mouthed to the room before them. The high ceiling was scattered with stalagmites stretching to the floor to the stalactites below, some of which had joined to formed thick pillars of stone. Several preserved mummies remained in their final resting place amid the dispersion of glowing fungus. Saber recognized the bodies had been placed here. A few items had been left with each body for their journey to the afterlife, and the placement of the corpses was deliberate. They appeared almost as if prostrate to the huge statue that encompassed the center of the room.

Prominent within the center was an enormous figure of Azura. Made of the same stone of the cavern, Saber guessed the ancients might have carved her from the very rock of the cave thousands of years earlier. She knelt in serene repose, head slightly bent. Somehow the Dunmer felt he'd met her once before. The face looked familiar, with typical elven features of high cheekbones, arched brows and small chin. The carved 'hair' was drawn tight in an elegant coif.

He stepped up to the base, staring up at the contemplative face, feeling awed as well as dwarfed by the effigy. She was nearly twenty feet tall. The composed expression of the face seemed to him as though she had waiting for him. His attention, however, were soon drawn to her cupped hands. There, floating ingenuously in some unseen magic was a ring.

"The moon and star…" Eiryn spoke in a whisper, yet her voice echoed and was amplified in the massive cavern. The awe in her voice cut through the eerie silence of the place. Only dimly one could still hear the wind raging outside.

Merthisan frowned, clearly not understanding. The scout gave a soft sigh. "The ring of Lord Nerevar." Her words were enough. She didn't have to explain further. The swordsman recognized the significance of the moment as well as the danger of wearing the ring.

Saber stared at the bauble floating in the air at the base of the great statue of Azura. Here lay the actual ring of legend, the moon-and-star that Lord Nerevar himself bore to unite the tribes, and bound the Houses into council. Created by an ancient Dweemer in secret, Indoril Nerevar had the ring forged with powerful enchantments. Such magick endowed the wearer with strong influence over others, as well as being indisputable proof of identity for only Nerevar himself could wear the ring. All others would fall dead.

The ring appeared almost silver, but cast a vibrant inner glow. A silver crescent moon was fixed behind a gold star. Such a simple design, Saber mused to himself, but effective. The Moon and Star was the symbol of Lord Nerevar's Family Standard. More importantly, here was the ring that was of the prophesied Neveravine.

The Dunmer watched the sparkle of magic emanate a glow from the enchanted ring, and he paused before reaching for it. Was the magic of the ring only if one dared to slip the piece on a finger, or was the power for anyone who dared touch it at all? If he were the true Nerevarine, neither option would affect him. If he successfully took the ring from the base, if he dared to place this on his finger, he was meant to face Dagoth Ur, to save all of Morrowind. If he wasn't…then he was mean to remain with the other corpses scattered about the cavern to await the true Incarnate.

Kneeling before the prostrated statue, Saber felt a strange pull to take the ring from Azura's hand. In fact, the compulsion had him instinctively reach for the Moon-and-Star before he heard the audible gasp behind him. The sound made him pause.

_Eiryn…._ He glanced over his shoulder to find her wide-eyed and pensive. A hand covered her mouth as lines of worry drew her expression into undecided terror. She knew exactly the turning point he faced now. She also knew, she might very well have to stand back and watch him die.

Merthisan was also cautious. The swordsman clenched his sword as if ready to battle. His stance bespoke of wanting nothing more to face something tangible in an honest fight. He knew, however, this was Saber's quest to finish. They both remained a respectful distance from him, but clearly they wanted to help, or, at the very least, prevent Saber from killing himself.

The Dunmer sensed an odd peace within. Was this what one might feel when facing impending death? He'd heard warriors mention as such. They described a strange calmness before death took them. Or was there something deeper running deep within his soul? Either case, he knew there were no words or further actions to take.

His hand reached for the ring.

A rush of power began to surge up to him, flowing from the ring, the statue, from the very floor below. Saber stiffened against the sensation, felt breath exhale in a loud gasp as the magic flowed through his limbs. An iridescent light swirled around him, enveloping him like a gentle wind. More shadowy forms of light began to whirl madly around the cave, and Saber realized the spirits of the failed Incarnates were coming to greet him.

--------------------------

Eiryn held back the scream she felt threatening to escape her throat. Mouth agape, she stared in horrible fascination as light and magic swirled like a storm around Saber. The forces lifted him off his feet, leaving him suspended just inches in the air. Arms extended out as the Dunmer swooned. His eyes closed, head fell back, and he was almost limp. The power coursed around him, holding him upright.

_It's killing him._ She thought, watching the churning incandescence wrap around him. The cloudlike wisps emanating from the corpses on the floor twisted and danced around the cave. The sounds of their passing reminded her of the wings of birds, with the feathery touch of their spirits barely touching when they passed her by.

She moved forward to pull him away, but Merthisan grabbed her by an arm. "Stop Eiryn!" He told her sharply. "We don't know what happening."

Tears blinded her. "Can't you see he's dying?" She tried to wrench free, even considering kicking him away, but the hold was determined. "Let me go!"

"I won't lose both of you!" The swordsman snapped back. Anger and despair matched her own. "Saber would never forgive me if I let anything happen to you!"

Eiryn relented, turning back to watch. Helpless rage was all she had now. Silently she cursed destiny, his as well as her own. None of this was fair! Why had she found him so long ago and convinced him to stay on the quest? Why hadn't she left that fateful day she met him in Suran? The memories of the past weeks flashed through her mind as she watched.

Eiryn fell to her knees, too overcome with loss and emotion to do anything but watch. Saber was caught in the tendrils of power convulsing around and within him now. He made no sound of distress except for the heavy breathing. His eyes closed, almost as if in thrall now, giving himself over to whatever power that threatened to immerse him.

The magic continued for several minutes, the threads of light and power wove a web in and around him. Moments passed agonizingly slow, but soon faded like the calm after a storm. The magic ebbed, gently laying the motionless Dunmer to the floor before the spirits soon followed their farewell.

All grew silent except for the soft sobbing of Eiryn and the gasps from the sword master who was trying very hard not to lose his control. He released the woman, knowing she'd rush to the still form of Saber's body. He also drew closer to the still form.

Sobbing softly, she drew him gently over to lie on his back and found his eyes still closed. "Saber?" Her voice was nothing more than a whisper now. She noticed the obvious glint of metal that was now on his hand. Oddly enough, she didn't recall his ever placed the ring on his hand-

His eyes fluttered, rolling back as he drew in a shaking breath. Eiryn sniffled, blinking several times in shock. _He's alive! I cannot believe it! He's alive!_ She cast a furtive glance to Merthisan who was wiping tears from his eyes. He grinned like a boy despite the haggard, disheveled appearance of his hair.

The Dunmer brushed hair from his face, gaining his bearings. "Did you hear?" He asked them, looking back up at the statue.

"Hear what?" Merthisan asked.

Saber continued to stare oddly at the figure above. "Azura…" He murmured. His attention drew back to his hand, which he stared stupidly at the moon-and-star now on his hand. A slow smile touched his lips. "It would seem I am the Nerevarine after all."

----------------------------------

Saber and his companions nestled in the Cavern of the Incarnate for safety and security for the night. He wanted to tell them what he had seen, what words the goddess had spoken to him. Caught into the powerful magic of the ring now worn on his hand, he also felt the surge of magic from Azura and the spirits of all the Incarnates before him. He'd been caught in several visions as well.

Each spirit had told his or her story. Each tried to share with him some words of wisdom from their own experiences, and even offering him gifts he could take off their corpses. As Saber had surmised, the bodies had been placed here when their quest failed. One had fallen in battle, another of sickness. Another failed Incarnate died while fighting the beasts of Red Mountain. The stories went on as Saber was drawn into their memories and tales. Each died hoping to fulfill the prophecies, but only Saber wore the ring.

"So Azura named you Nerevarine?" Eiryn prompted him to tell his story. They had set up bedrolls, ate a simple meal of ash yams and Scrib jerky. Saber nodded, gulping water.

"Is that it, then?" Merthisan asked, looking confused. "You go face Dagoth Ur?" The doubt in his voice was clear.

"Not exactly." Saber shook his head. "Azura told me I need to become Horator of the Great Houses, and Nerevarine to the tribes."

Eiryn matched his frown. "What's a Horator?"

"I'm not sure." He admitted. "Some of sort of champion I think."

"And I thought you were already Nerevarine to the tribes." Merthisan added. He had started cleaning and sharpening his blade, mostly from habit. The past experiences of seeing Saber nearly die more than once was beginning to take their toll on him. He felt as though he'd aged decades, and the sword master knew he preferred a fight with an army of dragons than face losing what he considered to be his family.

Saber leaned against a stone pillar, looking relaxed. His manner was that of one relieved of a heavy burden. "I'm not exactly sure but Azura told me Nibani will be my guide." His red eyes settled on his hand once again, staring at the silver and gold ring now on his hand.

Eiryn also stared, still unable to accept the fact he'd succeeded where so many failed. "This could take years." She told him. The unwavering gaze he returned told her he knew as much.

"To unite three Great Houses, and four of the Ashlander tribes?" Saber smiled, even chuckled at the humor of it. "Of a people who hate outlanders, and corruption runs rampant? Yes, Eiryn. I am well aware how long this might take."

The woman bit her lower lip in thought, finding his attitude a complete turnaround from the last they spoke of this quest. She drew in a heavy breath and released a drawn out sigh. "And then there is facing Dagoth Ur."

His smile faded slightly, but returned into a familiar boyish grin. "Are you telling me Eiryn Acques of the Blades, that you are not up to the task?" His tone was mocking. "Not the woman who fancies a challenge, no the woman who told me only months ago that she'd do what she could if she had been the Incarnate?"

Despite herself, Eiryn matched his foolish grin. "I think the real question here is, are _you_ up to the challenge?"

Saber settled back against the pillar with a tilt to his head, and a faraway look to his face. He gazed once more upon the Moon-and-Star. "Its my destiny, after all." He answered, his mouth pulling into a genuine smile. He'd accepted his Fate, and Eiryn could've sworn she saw a glint of mischief in his eye as they considered what lie before them.

_This is officially the end of the story Challenges, but do not worry, dear readers! I have in the works a series of short stories with Saber and Eiryn enduring the challenges before them. I wanted to break up the quests into smaller tales, perhaps experimenting with different points of views of characters within the game. I might even include stories of Saber's early years._

_Thanks so much for those of you who posted reviews. For writers such as myself, I LIVE for feedback, and often feel inspired to write each time I read one. Thanks so much for the support!_

_Stay tuned for further Chronicles of the Nerevarine!_


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